


The Malfoy Punishment.

by ComfortableSilences



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Conspiracy, Dark, F/M, Forced Marriage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mystery, No Incest, Not Epilogue Compliant, Obsessive Behavior, Older Man/Younger Woman, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Post-War, Ron Weasley Bashing, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2019-10-17 19:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 52,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17566871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComfortableSilences/pseuds/ComfortableSilences
Summary: ‘The Ministry really have no choice but to enforce marriages on the population,’ said another source who is supposedly in favour of the law, ‘there is even discussion of an amendment to the proposed law which would make it a requirement of all currently unattached Muggle-borns and pureblooded wizards and witches to undergo fertility testing to assign the best matches.’This was most likely just a scare tactic, encouraging people to marry now before they were forced to marry someone they didn’t choose later. Even if it wasn’t, the purebloods still had a strong enough hold on the Ministry that the law wouldn’t be passed. Right?________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________5 years after the war Hermione finds out her life is falling apart by two articles published by The Daily Prophet. One with her boyfriend Ron Weasley kissing another witch, and another detailing a proposal for a new law to force Muggle-borns to wed into Pureblood families. Hermione is matched with the Malfoys, and it seems too cruel for it to be a coincidence.





	1. There goes the epilogue...

Well…that was it. The life she’d built hung from a thread.

Hermione lifted her coffee cup to her lips and as everything crumbled around her. The warmth biting at her fingertips burning her nerves into stability. Any hope of saving their relationship was ravaged by the picture before her. Laid on the kitchen countertop was this morning’s edition of The Daily Prophet, and there was no denying that it was Ronald Weasley whose arms were wrapped around the blonde witch on the cover.

Hermione smiled bitterly, 'Of all the witches it had to be Brown' she thought shaking her head as she took a deep breath, desperately clinging on to her control.

She must have seemed calm to the unsuspecting eye, frozen still in her kitchen, failing to avoid making eye contact with the panic in Ron’s eyes. He pulled away from the kiss, widening his eyes in the flash, like the final light a deer sees before it smashes its life through a windscreen. Ron's life shattered with the flash of that camera. Brown’s eyes were gazing up at her ‘Won-Won’ oblivious. Hermione let out a bitter scoff, clearly the woman hadn’t matured past her empty-headedness at school.

The only outward sign of her inner turmoil was the painful grip she held on the counter as she sipped her coffee with a shaking hand, trying to understand why she felt numb standing on the edge of the cliff in her life. She should be crying, punching a wall, throwing Ron's things from their apartment window onto the street. But instead, she felt robotic, berating herself for being such a fool. She had simply wanted to believe that he cared about his career when he started spending extra time on cases, working late, and being 'too tired' when he returned. But what she had forgotten in her hopefulness was that Ron was content to stagnate in life. Ron had never really worked to push himself beyond being mediocre. Even during the war, he quit when the pressure got tough and she suspected he only became an Auror because Harry was. He lacked the creativity to come up with something himself. In her relief that he had finally some drive for the future, she hadn’t questioned it, and now her foolishness was splattered across the front page. 

The kitchen cupboards tinted green and she rolled her eyes, puckering her mouth in distaste. Her horrible thoughts had summoned 'the love of her life.' She rolled her eyes. She could practically hear the panic in his stumble as he rushed out of the fireplace.

‘Mione!’ he shrieked in surprise, and she didn't even have to look at him to see the stupid shocked look on his face. She felt his eyes on her back, but she couldn't even acknowledge him. She just crossed her arms across her chest, holding her coffee cup to her mouth, watching the steam mist around the cup from her breath. He had stopped dead in the living room when he had seen her, she couldn't hear his feet stomping across the room yet. She hoped he was choking on his heart, but found she didn't really care either way somehow.

She raised the coffee cup to her mouth and took a drink as she ignored him. He probably wasn't expecting her to be home, she normally would have left for work already. The sound of his feet moving towards her made her cringe inwardly. Each step was slow, approaching her like a wild animal that he had no idea how to interact with. The quiet footsteps stopped abruptly and she knew he had seen it, his own shame broadcast. 

He set his hands on the kitchen island between them, dropping his head to his chest, 'Mione, I can explain,’ he whispered, defeated.

Hermione found she still couldn’t look at him. The best she could manage was the blurred hint of ginger in her far peripheral as she stared at a magpie outside the window. They were supposed to be a symbol of bad luck on their own, but it was tragically ironic that her luck could get any worse. 

‘What exactly did you come back to the flat for Ronald?’ Hermione said, slightly shocked by the coldness in her voice. She knew why he came back and that sickened her almost as much as his affair.

‘Well I…I…Mione please,’ Ron bumbled, suddenly sounding very childish. 

 ‘Don’t call me that,’ she spoke deceptively calm, frowning into her coffee which had gone as cold as her demeanour,‘You came all the way back from your _business trip,'_ she spat the last two words out as if they were poison, revealing the storm beneath her calm exterior, ‘hoping you could get rid of the Prophet before I saw it didn’t you?’

Ron’s silence was all she needed to tell her what she already knew. Not only was her boyfriend a liar but an idiot to boot. He hadn’t even thought this through enough to realise it was inevitable she’d eventually see the newspaper or someone would tell her. Had he even the foresight to try and stop the newspaper from printing or did he think he could shield her from it forever? Suddenly she understood why their relationship never made sense to anyone. It only added salt to the wound that he thought he could fool her. It was the worst part of it, the cheating they could have maybe worked out, but lying to her and trying to trick her was unforgivable.

 The affair was common knowledge now and that stung Hermione’s pride than the horrid article sarcastically exclaiming a new Golden Trio. Hermione Granger- Brightest Witch of her Age-had been publically humiliated by the wizard behind her. By a wizard who thought he could fix this without her having to know about it. By a fool. She deserved more than that, she deserved more than him- he was dating out of his league.

 She slammed her coffee cup on the counter, letting it shatter in front of her, coffee dripping down her kitchen counters onto the floor. Ron jolted forward as if to help, but she held her hand up as he took his first step, ‘I am going to work now Ronald, and I don’t expect to hear from you for the rest of the day. When I come home tonight I expect your things to be gone.’

 

Ron was speechless as Hermione lifted her handbag from the counter and walked past his gaping mouth to the fireplace without even looking at him. As she threw the floo powder she heard him call after her desperately, she closed her eyes and with them her heart. She couldn’t feel sympathy for this man. Not after what he had done.

* * *

The caverns of the ministry atrium felt dark and oppressive when she stepped out of one of the chimneys. She stopped still, feeling the anxiety pull in her stomach knowing she would have to face the masses who knew about her crumbled relationship. She inwardly shook herself, steeling herself against their judgement.

People stood around in groups, each one mirroring the other. Usually one of them would lean in and quietly gesture her way with a nod or a look, their companions turning not so discretely to gawk at her. She slammed her high heels into the dark floor, stretching her legs in long strides doing her best Malfoy impression. No matter what happened to them they just strutted arrogantly through it. They deserved every look of scorn chucked their way, but she had to admit they never seemed much affected by the disdain.

Some people looked down as soon as they saw her, giving her a wide girth when she passed them. The whispers and stares made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she kept her eyes pointed at a distant brick in the wall and refused to remove them. She channelled Draco Malfoy's best stone face, focusing on the sounds of her heels hitting the floor. She could lick her wounds later; a lion doesn’t show weakness. In her determination to avoid eye contact with anyone she didn’t see the pair of silver eyes locked on her from across the room, white eyebrow raised in curiosity at her nerve. 

 

She tried not to show her relief when a lift was open when she arrived. It was nearing capacity but she walked in and stood next to the witches and wizards as she felt the lift go eerily silent. The tension in the lift catching in her lungs. Apparently, it was in someone else's too when a single cough rippled through the tense silence. This would be a long journey to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

She couldn’t bear to know what they thought of her- she was almost guaranteed that most people saw Ron's cheating as somehow her fault. She could almost hear the childish scoff of Pansy Parkinson telling her that goody-two-shoes Granger was too much of a prude for him. She felt like she could hear it in each uncomfortable throat clearing. What was worse than even that, were the pitying looks she felt on her back. It made the humiliation all the worse, but she held firm and stared at the point the doors joined together begging the gap would widen and she could leave.

She strode out almost as soon as the doors opened to the fourth floor, relieved to be free of the suffocating space. She didn't look at a single person in her department, she stared at her office door at the bottom of the corridor like a dancer picks a spot to stare when they spin. She hurled towards it and spun the handle, whooshing the door open in a flurry. She swept in and closed it behind her, pressing her back hard against it for stability. She closed her eyes and sighed, allowing herself to drop the weight of pretending to be stone.

The overwhelming urge to sob built in her chest as she was left alone. She realised that her tears weren’t necessarily about the end of her relationship, but mostly the humiliation and mourning of the years she had spent trying to be taken seriously in the Ministry. Many of the most important people in the Ministry had never been able to see her as anything but Harry Potter’s Muggle-born friend. To them, she might as well still be eighteen. Her extreme views, especially those involving house elves and werewolves, had contributed the most to this view- but she would not drop her campaigns for them. She had spent five years determinedly going after her goals, and this had eventually earned her at least a little bit of respect. She had only recently managed to get some welfare laws introduced to protect house elves from some of the cruelty at the hands of their masters, and she had planned to follow her trajectory towards legislation demanding basic rights like fair pay and holidays. She felt like half of the ministry would see her as the eighteen-year-old girl raving at the Wizengamot again.

She slammed her fist into the door in frustration. How could she face them demanding rights for the less fortunate creatures when half of them would be snickering at her and the other pitying her. Her emotions crept up behind her eyes as she felt a physical squeezing on her heart. She closed her eyes tight, took a deep slow breath and shook herself, that kind of grief would need to wait before she launches herself into a panic attack. She would bury herself in her work and try again. She was Hermione Granger; she doesn’t give up for anything she had to remind herself. It might even help her to pretend like everything was normal.

She walked over to her desk and slumped into her chair. She smiled when she realised her assistant, Lydia, had made her tea and it sat ready on her desk. She started to feel strangely emotional again as she realised it was the first nice thing someone had done for her since her life fell apart. She took a sip of the warm comfort and smiled, leaning into her chair as she started to feel a little better.  

 She sat forward and resolved herself to getting some work done. She looked down to her desk to see what memos had been left for her today. The smile was wiped from her face when she noticed the newspaper. That was a paper bomb on her desk. She slowly turned the paper over with two fingers as though it would explode in her face. All that looked back at her was the Minister of Magic, Shacklebolt, giving some sort of a speech. Lydia had removed the front page and left the rest of the newspaper. Tears prickled at the edge of her eyes, how silly of her to be getting so emotional about a simple act of kindness. She was suddenly glad of Harry and Ginny nagging about her accepting the Ministry’s offer of an assistant. The girl really was thoughtful, and on days like this she was glad of her.

Hermione opened the paper fully and read the opening line. 

 _Ministry of Magic Proposes Marriage Law to Save Wizarding Britain_.

 She always knew the Prophet was still in the Ministry’s pocket but this was outrageous. The article had barely any real facts- just over-exaggerated statements about the supposed ‘crisis’. Hermione scoffed at the idea that they were all supposed to swallow this hogwash as real facts, all because a ‘source’ claimed them to be true.

 _One source from the Minister’s inner circle confirms, ‘Each year more and more pureblood families have been almost incapable of producing magical children. This could be the end of magic in Britain as we know it unless we take drastic action now.’_  

Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. A few squib children had been born to the sacred twenty-eight and now the whole of Wizarding Britain was at stake. Sometimes it felt like little had changed after the bloody war.

_‘The public needn’t worry about their existing marriages, the law would only apply to unmarried witches and wizards. The ministry has no interest in breaking up families,’ the Minister emphasised at his speech at the Wizengamot yesterday, ‘The proposal in question, if put forward to vote, would require Muggle-borns to join with Pureblood families to produce the best chance of magical heirs. Half-bloods would be free to marry other half bloods, providing the couple are deemed likely to produce magical heirs. But strictly no marriage licences would be given to marriages containing more than one pureblood family or Muggle-born witches or wizards.’_

‘Well there’s no need for you to worry Hermione. It’s not like you are going to be getting married soon,’ she laughed darkly as she sipped her tea, remembering her newly single status.

_‘The Ministry really have no choice but to enforce marriages on the population,’ said another source who is supposedly in favour of the law, ‘there is even discussion of an amendment to the proposed law which would make it a requirement of all currently unattached Muggle-borns and pureblooded wizards and witches to undergo fertility testing to assign the best matches.’_

Hermione spat out her tea and sat forward in her chair. What the source was hinting at was that this law wasn’t just encouraging people to marry outside of their blood status but…enforcing marriages. Hermione suddenly found the air hard to breathe, she sucked it in more rapidly but somehow it still seemed devoid of oxygen.

‘Hermione, think this through before you overreact,’ her first-year self scolded her in her head. 

This was most likely just a scare tactic, encouraging people to marry now before they were forced to marry someone they didn’t choose later. Even if it wasn’t, the purebloods still had a strong enough hold on the Ministry that the law wouldn’t be passed. Right?

She set her tea on her desk and gathered her notes from yesterday’s meeting about the success of the new house-elf legislation. She straightened her papers and breathed a heavy sigh. That was all this law proposal was, a ploy to incite a baby boom. Her reinforcement still didn’t stop her feeling on edge about it but she needed to focus on rebuilding her reputation now. She had to come out looking strong or the Ministry would eat her alive.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Mainly set-up this week but I hope you enjoyed it and want to read more!
> 
> Comments are my lifeblood and I really appreciate them! So please leave a comment on what you thought of it, whether you liked it or not.
> 
> I will be updating this at least weekly. Subscribe if you'd like to get an email when I post the next chapter. 
> 
> Comfort  
> xxx


	2. Hiding

She was almost afraid to leave her office. She stood in front of the door, staring down at the unsteady hand clutching the handle in front of her. She could feel the weight of her handbag hanging from her elbow, her newspaper clutched in her hand and her coat on her other arm. The weight reminding her she needed to move.

She really had no more excuses for hesitating. She’d have to face life again eventually, the people, her empty apartment. Her hopefully empty apartment. She looked at her watch, she had already stayed as late as she could, it was nine o’clock. Any later and the lifts would be clogged with the night shift, and she’d have to face even more whispers, snickers and pitying looks.  

She huffed out a breath. ‘Stop being so silly Hermione. It’s only a short walk to the lifts, then a quick floo and you’re gone.’ She grabbed the door handle more firmly and turned, striding out before she lost the nerve. She glanced around as she walked, trying to subtly see if she was alone. She relaxed her chest as it seemed she was the only one left on her floor.

She looked down at her black heels as she walked through her department. There was always something eerie about the place with no one in it. It almost seemed apocalyptic. She laughed to herself as she thought the idiot in the Ministry who started this "crisis" nonsense probably seen the Ministry late at night and assumed they were going extinct. It certainly seemed ridiculous enough to be true. 

She arrived at the lifts and waited. She looked around the dark room and suddenly she felt like her younger self. Standing where she had no right to be, polyjuiced as someone else. She just didn’t feel right, and she started to wonder if her intuition was trying to tell her something…the lift chimed and her whole body jolted. She stood with her hand on her chest as she huffed out a quick laugh. She couldn’t believe how silly she was being. There was nothing to worry about, she was at the same workplace she’d been in for five years. Ever since this whole thing with Ron Hermione felt like she was completely out of place and on edge. Her nerves hadn’t been this jumpy since searching for Horcruxes with Harry. She hadn’t gone a single day then without the snap of a twig causing her adrenaline to spike. 

She turned to enter the lift and her stomach dropped. Maybe she was right to feel on edge. Of _all_ days this had to happen today. Draco Malfoy stood tall and imposing in the lift, a paragon of stone.  He must have been working late too. She knew she couldn’t back out now, so she walked forward and stood as far on the opposite side of the lift as she could from him.

‘Malfoy,’ she said in greeting, trying to hide her swallow. She was already on edge but standing in a confined space with the blonde just tipped her over the edge and her anxiety was a physical weight in her stomach.

‘Granger,’ he said as he cleared his throat a little awkwardly.

She moved her handbag from her elbow and held it in front of her, along with her coat and paper. There was an undeniable tension in the room.

Part of her had expected him to say she got what she deserved, thinking a Mudblood like her could keep the attention of a Pureblood. The Draco she knew from school wouldn’t be able to help himself. But he just stood silently in the tension, which was almost worse if she was honest with herself.

It was then that it occurred to her that he was most likely getting off at the same floor as her, and they would have an awkward walk to the floos. Did this have to happen today of all days? ‘Have I not been humiliated enough,’ she thought to herself as she looked down at her hands clutching her bag.

* * *

 

They reached the atrium with a ding, and she left as soon as the doors opened. She was hoping if she walked fast enough she could outpace him. Damn his long legs, he kept up with her stride for stride. To an onlooker, it might even look like they were walking together. She was glad the atrium was empty, she could imagine the gossip if someone saw them together, especially on the day her and Ron split.

It suddenly seemed like the only people left in the world was her and Malfoy. Oh, Merlin, imagine being stuck with _Malfoy_ forever, she widened her eyes at the thought. At least she only had to go to the floos with him. It was almost over, she reached a floo and grabbed some powder. She was trying to leave as quickly as she could as he did the same beside her.

She opened her mouth to call out her address, ‘Granger,’ he said suddenly as if afraid she would leave before he could say what he wanted to say. She stopped and looked at him wide-eyed. What could he possibly have to say to her?

He kept his face emotionless. ‘He was always beneath you,’ she looked up at him in complete shock and confusion, ‘Malfoy Manor,’ he said quickly and disappeared into the flame.

Hermione stood staring at where he’d been. She had to admit- she had no more capacity to process this. She just had too much for one day. Analysing Draco Malfoy wasn’t going to get her anywhere. So she threw the powder in the fireplace and made a quick retreat. She just needed to go home and curl up with a book and Crookshanks and escape for a while.

 

* * *

 

As soon as she stepped out of her chimney she realised she wasn’t alone. She was almost immediately attacked by a hug. She stumbled back into the chimney a little as the force overwhelmed her.

‘Hermione, he is such a bloody idiot git. He’s my brother but he’s still a bloody git!’ Hermione lifted her forearms as far as she could with her things in her arms and held onto the woman’s elbows. 

She looked across the room and saw Harry standing awkwardly in her kitchen holding on to her island. He lifted his hand in a small awkward wave before thinking better of it and running his hand through his hair. He never did know how to act in these situations she smiled to herself. 

She let out a deep long breath and for the first time today, she truly felt the tension leave her in the redhead’s arms. ‘You have no idea how happy I am to see you two here.’ She released the girl and dropped her bag and paper on the armchair beside the chimney. She smiled up at them genuinely. ‘But what are you two doing here? I thought at least one of you would be with Ronald.’

‘Pfft, as if he deserves it,’ Ginny looked off to the side in disgust.

 

Harry quickly intercepted, ‘Ron needed help getting his stuff out of the place and we thought we’d wait to see if you were okay.’ Harry looked up at her with concern. She smiled at him.

‘We were thinking we could order some Muggle Chinese food,’ Ginny said. ‘Eat all of our feelings, and pass out food drunk like we used to.’ Harry beamed at Hermione. 

Hermione smiled warmly at the suggestion. She was really thankful to have friends like Harry and Ginny. Plus, she was starving. She’d only had a sandwich for lunch she’d got Lydia to bring her. There was no way she was venturing out in the stares and whispers again.

 She finally started to move away from her chimney. She walked towards the kitchen and took a take-out menu from her organiser, placing it on the island counter beside Harry. She bumped him on the shoulder and smiled before looking down at the menu.  She pretended to look through the options as she considered how she would ask her next question. 

Hermione swallowed. ‘So he is gone then?’ she asked Harry in a quiet voice.  

Harry looked down at the counter, ‘He’s at the burrow,’ he said somberly.

‘That’s if Mum hasn’t yelled him to death by now,’ Ginny quickly added before the mood could turn sour. ‘I’ve only ever seen her this furious once before, and _that_ witch didn’t make it out alive. I’m not sure Ron stands a chance. He’s taken her future daughter-in-law from her she’ll be demanding blood.’ Ginny laughed darkly.

 Harry shook his head and smiled down at the counter. She was normally so much better at cheering Hermione up. And here she was mentioning not only Hermione’s broken relationship but implying a broken future with the Weasleys. Usually, he was the one that was all feet. 

He tried to turn the tone of the conversation, ‘She’s furious at him. She even sent him a howler to the office. He had run to the toilet to cast a Muffliato lest everyone hear. Half the office is spreading rumours about how he soiled his trousers at the sight of his mum’s howler,’ Harry couldn’t even finish his sentence before breaking into a chuckle at the last word. He was delighted to see Hermione had managed to join him.

‘I might just add to the rumour and bring him fresh trousers tomorrow,’ Ginny chortled, which earned her more from Hermione and Harry. 

‘So apart from sending Ron Howlers…how is Molly taking it?’ she was genuinely concerned for her. The woman might as well have been her mother after she lost her own.

Harry looked down and knew he couldn’t hide from Hermione, ‘She’s heartbroken. She thought you were going to be her daughter-in-law.’ Harry shrugged, ‘and now in typical Ron fashion he’s screwed it up. She’s furious with him.’ Now he was worse than Ginny, both feet planted firmly in his mouth.

Ginny turned and glared at him. Her eyes screamed at him, ‘are you crazy?’ as they widened. She looked a lot like Molly in that moment and he couldn’t help but look away sheepishly. It wasn’t that tactful to just jump in like that he supposed. But he never was one for much subtlety.

Ginny grabbed Hermione’s hands and held both of them in front of her, ‘She wanted you to know you’re still a daughter to her. I guess we also wanted to show you that nothing is going to change between us.’ The ginger-haired woman smiled brightly at Hermione, not pitying, just caring about her.

‘I’ll get a Chinese with you… Only if you agree to share Ginny,’ Hermione tilted her head and smiled at her friend. Harry and Hermione had always split their food, best way to sample everything, but Ginny and Ron had always possessively guarded their dishes- likely a result of eating at the Weasley’s table. Ginny rolled her eyes and put on a fake pout, ‘Only if you agree to a game of exploding snap,’ she said as she made her way to the menu. 

‘Deal’ Hermione beamed. She truly was grateful to have them.

* * *

The carnage covered every spare surface on Hermione’s coffee table. Plates, paper, plastic, leftovers cards spattered everywhere. 

All three of them were sitting on the floor, just like they used to, and it made Hermione feel a bit like a teenager again. The only person missing was Ron but she was happy she didn’t have to look at him right now.

Ginny leaned back against the sofa and pulled her eyebrows together, releasing a breath of air from her o shaped lips, ‘I think I’ve finally done it this time,’ she stroked her full stomach, ‘It’s gunna burst this time.’ She strained like she was having contractions from her food baby.

Hermione and Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the Weasley. It was times like these where there was no denying Ginny was related to George and Fred, she wasn’t as outrageous, but she loved to make them laugh by being silly. Hermione looked over to Harry and she couldn’t help but beam, he was so obviously in love with her. Even when she was pushing her stomach out and groaning to make them laugh. Did she ever really have that with Ron…mostly he just annoyed her when he was _trying_ to be funny.   

CLINK CLINK CLINK.

All three shoulders jumped, it seemed their war instincts were still sharp. They looked at each other in silence for a second before laughing as they realised it was just an owl at the window.

‘I’m glad to see it’s not just me who’s felt on edge lately. Both of you nearly hit the ceiling with me.’ She grinned as she stood up slowly, encumbered by her full stomach, and opened the window. She took the paper from the owl and fed it a treat from her stash she kept at the window.

‘Who the hell is owling you at this time Hermione? She looked at her watch, ‘It’s half eleven!’ the woman squinted her eyes in fake suspicion, ‘You haven’t got a new man already have you?’ 

Hermione slapped the paper down to her knees and opened her mouth in pretend shock. ‘Why Ginny, who do you take me for? Pansy Parkinson?’ They all erupted in laughter. ‘Actually _Ginny_ , it’s the Evening Prophet. No doubt about this silly crisis the Ministry has made up.’ She opened up the paper to read the front page.

_All Witches and Wizards Required to Undergo Fertility Tests._

Hermione opened her mouth and stared in genuine disbelief at the paper.

‘Well Hermione what does it say? You look like its announced the return of Lord Voldemort,’ Harry laughed anxiously.

Hermione turned the paper round in her arms for her friends to read. Ginny grabbed the paper from her hands- another Weasley trait Hermione thought- and read aloud,

_The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of all witches and wizards at childbearing age to undergo fertility testing beginning on Monday morning. According to reliable sources within the Ministry, the testing is essential to understanding the disease which has befallen the wizarding community. The appointments are mandatory and letters will be sent via owl tomorrow morning detailing appointments. The Minister’s official statement is as follows, ‘In order to consider how to combat the danger facing our people, we must first know more about it. The fertility studies will help us assess the…’_

‘What complete bullshit!’ Hermione exclaimed, surprising everyone at her unusual foul language. She began pacing the room, ‘This is almost as bad as the Muggle-born Registration Commission. Intrusive and completely unfair!’ Hermione yelled.

Harry gulped as he prepared himself for what he was about to say, ‘Hermione…Don’t you think you’re taking this a little…personally.’ She turned to glare at Harry. He knew he had to quickly follow up before she hexed him, ‘I just mean…Let them do their testing, they’ll either find nothing there or ban Pureblood marriages. It shouldn’t really affect us…right?’

‘Didn’t you see the paper this morning Harry? They were talking about introducing a law forcing couples to marry. One of their “reliable sources”,’ she air quoted with her fingers, ‘are talking about using these tests to assign partners!’ She ran her fingers through her hair, it seemed to get more out of control the more agitated she got. 

Harry coughed awkwardly, ‘I…hadn’t actually seen that. I was a little preoccupied with… other things in the papers.’ He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at his knees pushed up towards his chest.

‘I wouldn’t put it past the Ministry to have done that on purpose Harry. Shifting the attention to me so we might not notice these fertility tests.’

Ginny said softly, ‘I don’t like the sound of it either Harry. Forced fertility tests seems a little…extreme don’t you think?’

Hermione butted in, ‘Everything the Ministry seems to be doing lately is extreme! Is there a penalty for refusing to partake?’ she asked Ginny who was still holding the paper in her hands. She studied the paper and moved her head from left to right quickly skimming. ‘Nothing in here.’

 Hermione stopped pacing and brought her hand to her mouth, the other holding her elbow. She thought for a minute, her hands on her hips. ‘Knowing the Prophet and the Ministry, that is either good...or really really _really_ concerning.’ All three friends looked at each other nervously. Something about it definitely didn’t seem right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading. I know we are taking a while to get on to the good stuff but I assure you it's coming ;D 
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think! 
> 
> Comfort  
> xxx


	3. Not a Real Weasley

CLACK CLACK CLACK 

The impatient clacking at her window felt like it was pecking into her skull.

Damn Ministry owls’ manners were about as good as their masters’. She set her coffee down and opened her window. As soon as she took the letter the owl flew off. It hadn't even waited for a treat. She rolled her eyes, typical. 

She looked nervously down at the envelope, she knew exactly what it would be. She contemplated throwing it in the bin and waiting to see what the Ministry would do about it. But she thought better not push her luck, it was only an appointment card anyway. She would decide what to do about it later.

She broke the Ministry’s seal on the back of the letter and opened it up, lifting her coffee to take a sip as she leaned on her island. 

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_As I am sure you are now aware, all witches and wizards between the ages of nineteen and fifty-five are required by the Ministry Of Magic to undergo fertility testing. We can assure you that this will be a non-invasive procedure and the results of which will directly impact the Ministry’s ability to combat the current population crisis._

_Please find below your appointment details:_

_HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER: 9 A.M. MONDAY 15 th NOVEMBER._

_ST MUNGO’S HOSPITAL FERTILITY TREATMENT ROOM 3 FLOOR 3_

 

_All employers have been given strict instructions that this appointment must not be obstructed under any circumstances. This letter will serve as proof of your appointment. Please give this letter to your employer to explain your absence. If you work for the Ministry, it will not be necessary as all appointments have already been distributed to your line manager._

_Should you for any reason be unable to attend your appointment please contact me immediately to arrange another. You should note however that only in exceptional circumstances will the appointment be changed._

_Penalties for not attending your appointment without prior notice will be severe._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Phyllis Silverthorne._

Hermione could have spat her coffee out over the letter. Her appointment was first thing Monday morning! They weren’t wasting any time. She only had the rest of her Saturday and Sunday to make sense of all this. It all felt…so fast. And what did ‘severe’ consequences mean? What happened to the third floor of St. Mungo’s too? Wasn't that the potions and poisoning floor? The Ministry must be taking over parts of the hospital for the tests… She gulped and checked the time. She had to get ready. Ginny and Harry were expecting her in a few hours and Hermione hated being late.

 

* * *

 

Hermione stepped out of the chimney to Harry and Ginny’s empty living room.

‘Harry?! Ginny?!’ she called out looking around. She left her bag on the floor and lifted a paper sitting on their coffee table. She smiled as she realised it was the Quibbler-most likely there was a new invisible creature they must all watch out for. Before she had a chance to process what the article was about she heard Ginny called out.

‘Hermione! Is that you?!’

‘Yes, Ginny I’m downstairs!’

Ginny appeared at the bottom of the stairs, Harry trailing behind her. She grabbed her Muggle style coat from the dining room chair and pulled it around her shoulders.

‘We need to go! If we’re late mum will never let us hear the end of it.’

‘I certainly don’t want to be on the receiving end of Molly’s howling about keeping the food warm again. Especially now I don’t have Ron keeping me late,’ Hermione chuckled as she lifted her bag and stood by the chimney, waiting for Ginny and Harry.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they stepped from the chimney Molly was upon her. Hermione smiled at how similar Molly and her daughter were. Both had ambushed her, in the same way, meeting her for the first time since she and Ron had broken up.

‘Oh Hermione, I thought you’d never be with us again!’ she held the brunette close to her chest. Molly was soft and warm against Hermione and it set her completely at ease. She melted into her embrace.

‘You’re like a mother to me Mrs Weasley. How could I ever leave?’ Hermione squeezed the woman in front of her then pulled back to smile at her.

‘Ahem, your actual daughter here mum. Where’s my hug?’ Ginny laughed. Molly gave her a chastising smile but there was clear love behind it as she moved to hug her daughter.

‘Good to see you Harry dear. Are you hungry? I hope my Ginny is feeding you alright’

Hermione smiled at the thought of the Weasley mother, always asking about Harry’s eating. She knew it irritated Ginny, who was currently rolling her eyes as she made her way to the dining table. ‘As if he can’t feed his bloody self,’ she murmured quietly to Hermione, who chuckled as she pulled out one of the mismatched chairs.

Before long they were all tucking into breakfast- looking at the table you’d think Molly had made enough for ALL the Weasleys and not just the few of them, but Hermione supposed that she was either used to making such quantities or it was because Hermione was coming after her break up from Ron. Nothing was wasted in the Weasley household anyway, as soon as Arthur came back with the rest of the Weasleys the table would soon be cleared.

Silence had settled on the table as they began to eat. It was the quietest Hermione had ever heard the burrow. Molly looked uncomfortable for a second before she put her elbows on the table and leaned farther towards Hermione.

‘You know dear…nothing really needs to change. You will always be a Weasley to us.’ 

Hermione could feel tears welling up behind her eyes at the pure love shining at her from Molly’s face.

Molly smiled warmly at her and encouraged by Hermione’s reaction continued, ‘You could eventually be all friends again too couldn’t you?’ The table fell silent and Ginny nudged her mother.

‘I…I’m not sure..’ Hermione started.

 ‘Hermione, did you get your appointment letter yet?’ Ginny rescued her. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief to be off the topic of her and Ron, but the fertility testing was almost as touchy of a subject with her at the minute. 

‘Yes, I did actually. I’m scheduled for Monday at 9 A.M.’

‘So soon?!’ The Weasley Matriarch exclaimed in surprise.

‘Mine is on Monday too- the letter came this morning. But I’m not scheduled until 3 P.M. Harry is at the same time so we will go together.’

‘At least you have someone to go with dear…Hermione, you know if you need the support I will certainly go with you if you need it.’ Molly smiled at Hermione.

‘Actually, I think I will go myself, Mrs Weasley,’ Hermione might have appreciated the support but she didn't want to cause the woman any trouble.

Molly looked concerned at her, ‘I’ll be fine. These things aren’t as uncommon in the Muggle world,’ Hermione reassured her. 

She wasn’t worried about the tests themselves. She was more worried about what the Ministry intended to do with the results or why it was important at all. She couldn’t help but think about the Prophet article about the proposed law. While it seemed so unlikely the Ministry would force the laws upon them, especially with Kingsley at the helm, it still unsettled her now that the fertility tests were being pushed upon them.

‘I’m not too sure about mine honestly. I’m not really sure what to expect,’ Ginny said.

‘I wish I knew what to tell you, love,’ Molly looked at her daughter apologetically, ‘But I’ve never had the tests before,’ she looked down at her tea, ‘I don’t really know what’s involved in them.’ She stopped and looked up in thought, ‘I’ve never actually really _heard_ of them being done in the Wizarding world.’ She shrugged, ‘I imagine if they did they’d be a bit hush hush,’ Molly said, ‘Hermione you said these kind of things are more common for Muggles, what is it like in the Muggle world?’ she looked to Harry and Hermione.

Harry looked straight at Hermione, glanced quickly down to his breakfast, then returning his eyes to her. He quickly shoved his full fork in his mouth and smiled a closed mouth smile at her, the toast and bacon puffing out his checks. Hermione scowled at him. He had won, she would have to be the one to explain.

Hermione couldn’t help her blush, but she did her best impression of her know-it-all younger self, lifting her head high and straightening her neck. ‘Well the process for a woman is much more complicated than it is for a man. All a man has to do really is…provide a sample,’ Harry choked nearly coughing out his breakfast before taking a sip of tea, hiding his smile behind the mug.

Hermione looked at him out of the side of her eye but continued, ‘But for women, there are lots of different tests. They test your blood to see your hormones, and they do ultrasound scans,’ she saw the confused look on Ginny and Molly’s faces so continued, ‘they scan your stomach to check your organs, they can see through into your body,’ both women looked horrified. ‘It’s not as bad as you think! It’s very like the scans you get when you’re pregnant in the magical world.’ Hermione continued trying to settle the Weasley women’s nerves. Molly wouldn’t be subjected to the tests as she was outside of the age window, but she was nervous on behalf of her children. 

‘That doesn’t sound too bad I guess,’ Molly said. ‘The pregnancy scans are harmless, they pretty much just run their wand over your belly.’ 

‘I still don’t like the idea of us _having_ to do it,’ Hermione emphasised, ‘usually in the Muggle word these things are usually a kind of last resort after you’ve been trying to get pregnant for about a year.’ 

The table fell silent again as they avoided eye contact with each other- they all knew something was wrong about this but they couldn’t pinpoint exactly what the Ministry was up to. 

The sound of a car horn in the distance interrupted the tense silence.

Molly jumped, ‘Oh!’ she squealed, ‘That will be the boys back! Hermione dear, I’m sure you won’t want to stay to see Ronald quite so soon after…’ Molly said understandingly.

Hermione pulled her chair out to leave. ‘Yes, I think it’s best I don’t for now, Mrs Weasley.’ She smiled sadly at the older woman. 

‘Molly dear,’ she corrected. ‘How many times do I remind you two? You’re adults now,’ she smiled. Harry held up his hands in surrender as he stood from his seat, as if to say ‘I haven’t said anything’.

They all stood and put on their coats. Ginny and Harry bid farewell to Molly Weasley before stepping out through the floor each in turn.

When they were alone, Molly put her hand on Hermione’s back caringly, ‘Remember dear, you’re always welcome with us,’ she said warmly, ‘No matter what that Ronald Weasley has done,’ her face stiffened into anger and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, remembering the howler Molly had sent to Ron at work. It was sure to have been so bad she wondered if the rumours were perhaps true and he did soil himself.

She hugged Molly again tight, before giving a sad smile and pulling away. She stepped into the chimney and grabbed the floo powder. 

‘HERMIONE!!’ she heard Ron cry desperately crashing through the door. She quickly threw the powder and was whisked away by the flames, gone before he could reach her.

 

* * *

 

Hermione had her eyes firmly closed and found it difficult to open them. She hardened herself and opened her eyes to see her apartment. It looked how it always had. At hearing his voice again, she felt his presence in the apartment, but without any of his things, it made the gaps in the shelves suddenly unbearable.

The room began to become blurry as the tears welled in her eyes. It was the first real time that she had spent alone from the breakup, and it hit her like the Hogwarts Express. She walked into the room and dropped her handbag on the floor.

She moved into the kitchen, a tear slowly making its way down her cheek. She made to grab a mug from the cupboard, trying to comfort herself with tea. Her shaking hand tried to keep a grip onto the mug as she felt her body become weak. The mug dropped from her hand and smashed on the floor. It was the last thing she could take. She burst into violent sobs sinking down her kitchen cabinets onto the floor. She pressed her head flat against the cabinet and pulled her knees in towards her. She stared up to the ceiling and felt her tears slide into her hair in front of her ears. 

She had been through everything with him. She had grown up with him from she was eleven years old. She watched the war turn him into a man, and fought for her life by his side. 

She had hoped for everything with him. She imagined one day she’d wear white, walking down to meet to his goofy smile at the other end of the aisle. She hoped she’d one day come into the Weasley home truly as one of them.

She thought one-day bright blue eyes would stare up at her, framed with strawberry blonde eyelashes, and she’d run her hands through the tuft of red hair and beam with pride. She’d feel Ron’s arm come around her, joy and wonder in his face looking down at the infant. She lowered her head to her knees and felt her trousers dampen. She could barely breathe for the sobs that refused to silence. 

She hoped to one-day watch red and black haired children chase each other in the gardens of the burrow. Laughter and smiles filling the air. She would have watched their little freckled faces fill with wonder and joy watching their father and uncle fly on their brooms, teaching them to play Quidditch. All eyes would be on the men, but she would watch the children be thrilled by the prospect of flying. She would laugh and decline when offered to fly with them and feel her heart swell watching them take their first flight, chasing each other.  

Soon to chase each other through the wall between platforms nine and ten. She had hoped to feel her ears hurt around the full Christmas table, watching the large family fight over the last of the pigs in blankets, wearing matching knitted jumpers initials knitted into their chests. The noise of laughing, talking, teasing filling the air. The warmth and love typical of the burrow.

She had hoped to watch the wrinkles appear on his face from years of smiling and laughing with her. The same reflected on her own. She wanted to watch him become an old man with her and they’d love each other until the end. Wrinkled hand in wrinkled hand, always together.

The worst part was…she hadn’t hoped. That _was_ supposed to be her life, she hadn’t even felt the need to hope. She just accepted that was her future. Now it had turned to ashes in her mouth. She lay on her kitchen floor; the life she’d never lead flashing in front of her eyes. Her breathing was only just interrupting the sobs and she could feel her head becoming light. No matter how much she gasped for air she seemed to still be suffocating. She mourned for memories she’d never have, children she’d never have, a life that was never to be.

She released her knees from her chest and lay flat on the floor. Her chest heaving off the floor trying to breathe. She stared at her ceiling through the blurs in her eyes, closed them, and let herself feel the misery wash over her.

 

* * *

 

She lay there until the room was almost overwhelmed with darkness. She had stopped crying a long time ago, but she found she couldn’t move. Once the tears had stopped, she had stared up at the ceiling, feeling numb. Even her mind was completely empty as she just listened to the sound of her breathing.

She felt something soft and furry, then wet touch her hand. She knew it was Crookshanks demanding to be fed. She took a deep breath and began to sit up, her back was aching from lying on the hard kitchen floor.

She slowly pulled herself up from the counter and turned on the kitchen lights. Her back protested as she grabbed Crookshank’s bowl from the floor. The cat rubbed his soft body against her legs, as she cut up his meat. The cat was on the bowl the second she set it down for him.

She looked around her apartment through her sore puffy eyes. The whole room felt wrong now. She couldn’t bear it. She walked over to the bookshelves and began throwing her books and pictures onto her sofa and began the rebirth of her apartment. She spent the rest of her weekend making her apartment as unrecognisable as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a sad update I know. :( 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos, comments and subscribed to this story.  
> I promise I will start moving along with the storyline next chapter- which should be in the next few days. 
> 
> Comfort  
> xxx


	4. Invasive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter is a little...uncomfortable. 
> 
> If you think you are going to be affected perhaps its best to skip this one. 
> 
> The Ministry has begun its fertility testing, and it feels a little more invasive than Hermione expected.  
> It's not so much the tests as it is the people running them.
> 
> I have split this chapter in two so it's easy to skip past the parts which might upset you.  
>  I'm going to upload part two of this chapter this evening.

The reception area at St. Mungo’s had been packed with as many extra chairs as they could fit, barely two chairs matched, and none of them looked comfortable. She stared down at her book, not really taking any of it in but glad of a distraction, even just to make her look busy.

Where the reception was usually full of noise and life, Mediwitches and healers frantically trying to calm and patients with extra limbs or elephant trunks, now despite the room being seriously overcrowded it was suffocated by a tense silence. A cough broke the silence enough to make the whole room jump slightly. Hermione couldn’t help but remember the tense feelings in the exam halls just before the professors passed out the parchments.

She looked around the room, hoping to meet eyes with someone she knew. Sadly, she was amongst strangers. In such a crowded room, she felt alone. She recognised faces here and there, distant people who worked at the Ministry or had gone to Hogwarts but there was no one she knew well enough to strike up a conversation.

Not a face in the room looked even remotely comfortable. Every witch and wizard was on edge, suffering from the same tension she was. It must have been scarier for a lot of them if fertility tests were an uncommon or as taboo as Molly thought.

‘Hermione Granger!’ She visibly jolted as her name was called. She looked up to see a plump matronly woman holding a clipboard tight to her breast.

She quickly bent to put her book in her bag, ‘GRANGER,’ the Mediwitch screeched as if she hadn’t seen her. Hermione opened her eyes in surprise as if struck. She frowned and lifted her bag quickly, pushing her book in on the way towards the rude woman. 

She gave her the most unimpressed scowl she could muster. The woman simply turned on her heels and walked in front of her, snooty head held high. Hermione wasn’t so sure the woman was really a Mediwitch, despite being dressed in the usual outfit, her blatant bad manners and holier than thou attitude seemed off. 

They made their way through the corridors of the hospital, each lined with people waiting to be seen. She met the concerned and embarrassed eyes everywhere she looked. 

* * *

 

By the time they reached the third floor, it was less populated, but Hermione couldn’t decide if that was worse, walking down the empty corridor, it felt like she and the snob in front of her were the only people left in the world. St. Mungo’s seemed like an empty carcass.

‘Wait here Miss Granger. The Mediwizard will summon you in,’ she tilted her head and looked like a smiling wolf. 

‘Medi…wizard?’  Hermione asked, gulping at the thought of a man going through the tests with her. She had thought, with such a delicate subject- especially to the Wizarding World, she would at least be tested by another woman.

She liked to think of herself as a feminist, but she couldn’t help but find the thought a little uncomfortable. What was worse was the fact that the hospital, or the Ministry she wasn’t sure who organised this, didn’t even consider it insensitive pair you to someone of the opposite sex.

‘Why of course a Mediwizard. This is a hospital after all,’ the woman replied sarcastically, tilting her head and smiling like a snake this time. Hermione wondered if Umbridge had a sister, a twin maybe. As the wicked old matron, turned sharply on her heels and trotted her warpath down the now empty corridor.

Hermione pulled her bag closer to her protectively and looked up and down the corridor. She imagined tumbleweed drifting wouldn’t have looked so out of place. She smoothed down her skirt and tucked her unruly hair behind her ear. She couldn’t quite place how she felt. The best she could think of while she waited was that moment in a horror movie, where the victim walks slowly towards a closed door, the tension just before the horror jumps out.

The door next to her swung open suddenly and aggressively, smashing into the wall behind it. After she stilled her heart from her scare, she looked at the empty doorway, expecting to see someone but no one stood there.

‘Enter!’ a deep controlled voice echoed through the empty hallway.

She gathered her bag and with a deep breath, she reminded herself that she was an adult woman, not a jittery schoolgirl outside Snape’s office. She walked into the room and stopped short in the doorway. The room was white and clinical as was the man sitting at the desk in front of her. It all seemed out of place for St. Mungo’s.

He was in his early thirties. His dark hair the only thing of colour in the room. It was styled so meticulously it looked wet, not a single hair was out of line. He was remarkably pale as if all colour had been drained from him. He looked up at her above his glasses. He looked like he might have been attractive if not for his countenance, and general demeanour.  His eyes made her feel small, travelling deliberately from her head to her ballet flats. His eyes were like an unwelcome caress, that ended in a smile that was simultaneously sexual and condescending.

 ‘Sit, Miss Granger,’ he said returning to his writing. He was completely still apart from his handwriting as she sat in her seat. He was the only person in the hospital all day who seemed not just unaffected by the tension in the room but to gloat in it somehow.   

She sat in the chair and she rubbed her left ring finger with her right hand to comfort herself, fidgeting to ease some of the awkwardness in the silence.

He made her wait while he returned to writing his notes. When he had finally finished, he carefully removed the parchment he had been writing on and meticulously folded it before sealing it in an envelope and piling it on top of many others. Each witch or wizard reduced to one of many manila envelopes. The painstaking effort with which he seemed to do everything put her on edge. 

He lifted a new piece of parchment, carefully laying it in front of him, slowly placing it into his clipboard, smoothing down the pages hard with an open palm. She couldn’t see what was on the parchment, but she assumed it must be questions and observations part of the test. 

‘Before we begin,’ he licked his finger and turned over the page on his clipboard.

 ‘The Ministry has asked us to read the following statement,’ he looked down from her at the page and cleared his throat.

‘The Ministry of Magic would like to formally thank you for your participation. You are central to ensuring the future of Magical Britain,’ he paused sounding bored. He brightened and rose his voice louder to continue, ‘Furthermore, you are reminded that failure to provide the relevant answers and samples required for this test will result in _severe_ consequences.’ he hadn’t stopped smiling delivering the threat, as if he revelled in it.

He turned the page back over and placed it back down to the clipboard, again smoothing it flat against the wood.

He leaned forward carefully in his seat, ‘For the first part of the test, Miss Granger, you will answer some questions.’ He definitely wasn’t asking that much was clear.

‘What is your blood status to the best of your knowledge?’, Hermione felt like rolling her eyes at him, ‘Muggle-born,’ she said, daring him to challenge it. 

‘To confirm Miss Granger, both of your parents are…Muggles?’ His pause was barely noticeable but it said more than any of his words would. It nearly sounded like he wanted to laugh.

She threw her head in the air, ‘Yes, they are,’ she wasn’t going to be embarrassed. Her were amazing people. They had loved her and supported her even as they lost her to her new world. His smile grew a few centimetres and scribbled down on the parchment. She would fight a thousand condescending Mediwizards just to see them again, and for them to actually know who she was.

‘Do you have any children?’ 

‘No’

‘Have you ever been pregnant? This includes miscarriages and,’ his lip curled up in disdain, ‘terminations,’ he spat the word out.  

‘No’ she answered truthfully, but she was infuriated that he would express any kind of opinion on the matter. What if a witch going to these tests had terminated a pregnancy, and he belittled her like that? Aren’t medical professionals supposed to be impartial?

She could feel the fury rise within her and she gave him her hardest and angriest stare, which he seemed delighted by.

 ‘Are you a virgin, Miss Granger?’ 

‘Pardon?!’ She almost jumped out of her seat. She gripped onto the armrests of the seat.

He gave her a grin, happy to get a reaction from the witch, ‘Are you a virgin, Miss Granger? I feel as though I must remind you that all questions must be answered, and answered as truthfully as possible.’ 

She knew she had to answer, she couldn’t risk the consequences not even knowing what they were. ‘No.’

His eyes seem to burn with delight at having defeated her and moved to watch him writing on the parchment again. She struggled to keep her hand away from her pocket where she knew her wand was stored. 

‘So, how often do you have sexual intercourse?’ 

She widened her eyes in fury. Why do these questions even matter? What does how much you have sex have to do with your fertility unless you’ve been actually trying. Her cheeks went red she wasn’t sure if it was with fury or embarrassment as she realised that question had become a bit complicated for her. 

She thought of the least humiliating way to answer, ‘I’m single,’ she said.

He coughed, ‘Indeed, or you would not be here,’ again seemingly on the verge of laughter, her cheeks burned, ‘How often do you have sexual intercourse with men, Miss Granger?’ 

‘I don’t,’ came the stiff reply.

‘Lovely.' He might as well have said what his tone conveyed, 'of course you don't, you've just been publically dumped.' 

He finished writing and looked her directly in the eye as he continued to prod, ‘When was the last time you had sexual intercourse where a man ejaculated into you, Miss Granger?’

She could no longer contain herself, she pushed her seat behind her as she stood, ‘THAT is an outrageous question! What effect can that possibly have on my current fertility?!’ 

‘Miss Granger,’ he closed his eyes tight and smirked, ‘do I need to read the declaration from the Ministry again?’ he opened his eyes to take a long patronising blink, ‘There will be severe consequences if you do not answer the questions provided,’ voice raising at the end of the sentence in complete condescension. 

She forced herself to sit back down slowly. The hand that had been pressing against her wand inside her jacket relaxed. But she would fight him on this, even just to see how he would react.

‘I demand to know the why this question is relevant,’ putting on her best snooty voice, ‘There’s nothing in the Ministry declaration that says I’m not allowed to do that.’ She lifted her chin and glared him down.

His face fell, the paleness in his cheeks rose to a red fury, the only colour the man seemed to possess. He held on to the clipboard so tightly his knuckles were white, a hair had fallen down his forehead to touch a vein throbbing with anger. He looked like he might hex her, or even hit her, she did her best to be made of stone and not react, inwardly something in her gut told her she should run.    

‘The Ministry is trying to establish if there is a chance you are already pregnant and it’s too early to show,’ he was no longer smiling and enjoying humiliating her, he was outright frenzied. Every word he said next was spat out through almost gritted teeth, ‘Answer the question, Miss Granger,’ his deep voice now impossibly low.

‘About two weeks ago,’ she answered through pursed lips, daring him to follow it up.

He didn’t, he just wrote down her answer as his shoulders settled back once more, the throbbing vein retreated and he lifted his hand to smooth down the wayward hair, pressing far too hard. Nothing had set her on edge quite as much as how quickly this man could change from one emotion to the other. She couldn’t help but feel threatened by him as he was completely unpredictable.

He breathed deeply, ‘You said you aren’t having sex at the moment so I won’t ask about the contraception you are currently on, assuming you don’t need it?’ she nodded in affirmation and was grateful that he had finally given her a break.

Until he said, ‘What contraception have you used in the past?’ by the end of his sentence, he had returned his fake condescending demeanour and kept his piercing stare on her, awaiting her response.

Hermione didn’t see how it was relevant, but she would answer his questions and get this over with quickly so she could get back to work as soon as possible. She didn’t want to give him an excuse to say she was being uncooperative.

‘At the moment I’m not using anything. In the past: potions, charms and Muggle forms.’

‘Muggle?’ he looked like he might explode with laughter. 

‘Condoms,’ she replied quickly looking down to her hands. She could him immediately shoving his head down to write again, the smile on his face made her feel sick. He acted like there was some big joke in everything she said.

‘Tell me about your periods Miss Granger. Have you ever experienced irregularities?’ As awkward as this topic was at least it was somewhat relevant.

‘No,’ she answered bluntly. He would get his answers but he was getting no detail.

* * *

 

 

‘That’s it for the questioning part of the examination Miss Granger. Thank you for your cooperation,’ he said somewhat sarcastically. By this stage she was furious, and as much as she didn’t like to admit it, embarrassed. He had asked her every uncomfortable question the Ministry could think of, and she just wanted to go.

Just as she made to grab her handbag he spoke again, ‘Now, for the physical examination.’ She halted in her seat, she had forgotten about this part. ‘If you could just come through here,’ he rose from his seat and stalked to a curtain erected in the room, pulling it back he revealed a Muggle gynaecology chair in the middle of the room, with a sterile looking table beside it, filled with the implements he would need. This whole room didn’t fit with the rest of the hospital, or with the Wizarding World in general. Everything about it seemed out of place.

‘We thought you might be more comfortable in a more…Muggle looking environment,’ he said, looking like he was going to burst into a snicker. She tried to convince herself that it’s just a normal medical procedure and that the Ministry had said they would be non-invasive…

‘Please take a seat, Miss Granger. I’m going to be taking a few samples of your blood to begin,’ he gestured to the chair, before turning to the table beside it, preparing a syringe.

She decided that she would show the man no weakness. She stood up and strode to the chair, taking off her jacket and laying it across the seat she was about to sit on. She avoided the stirrups and forced her shoulders to relax. She rolled up her sleeve and waited on him arrogantly. He narrowed his eyes, as he turned, syringe in hand, her strength had clearly bothered him. She didn’t hide her smirk.

‘It shouldn’t hurt,’ he held her arm as he carefully poked the needle through her skin. She wouldn’t even show the tiny prick of discomfort it caused. She stared at the blank wall in front of her and continued smiling pretending to be friendly. She could see the man’s shoulders tense at her calm demeanour and she didn’t care if he got angry anymore- he couldn’t accuse her of failing to submit to the tests, the only thing she refused to submit to was him.

He finished with one sample, transferring to a vial, and meticulously labelled each, shoulders tense and grin extinct. They went through the same procedure seven times. She thought this seemed excessive but she knew her cooperation was bothering him. Clearly, he had wanted her to kick and scream about it.

‘Miss Granger please strip from the waist down and lay on the table,’ He huffed out in one angered breath, clearly trying to regain the upper hand.

She stood and held her hands at her skirt, looking up at him expecting him to leave or draw the curtain. He stared with fake innocence at her.

‘Fine if that’s how you want to play it,’ she thought to herself as she pulled out her shirt tucked into her skirt, then unzipped her skirt from the back. She slipped her skirt and underwear down her thighs in one fell swoop.

It wasn’t like the Ministry hadn’t given him permission on her behalf for him to see her anyway. She plonked herself down on the chair, intentionally seeming carefree. His head retracted as if she had slapped him as her weight hit the chair. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He was clearly getting some kind of enjoyment from making her uncomfortable, so by Merlin, she would try her best to look as comfortable as she could. The Mediwizard was fast losing the battle and the look on his face said he knew it. When he came closer, she could see his forehead had begun to perspire as he adjusted her seat so she was lying down.   

‘I’m going to scan your reproductive organs to check for irregularities. Please raise your shirt to expose your midriff, Miss Granger.’ Her shirt was the only thing left hiding her dignity for now, it coming to fall just below the apex of her legs.  

He thought he had her this time, his face reeked of premature victory. She lifted her shirt to just below her breasts and smiled. She knew she was practically naked, and she would have been embarrassed if she hadn’t decided to get into a war with the man. She wasn’t the type to back down from war.

As he got out his wand, she couldn’t help but notice even it somehow seemed bland and sterile, there was hardly even a groove to distinguish between the wand and the handle. He hovered it above her stomach and whispered a spell she wished she had of heard. He studied a piece of parchment beside him where a map of her organs was demonstrated, the picture moved as he moved his wand around her stomach. 

She couldn’t help but be fascinated by the magic involved, it must be something similar to the Marauders Map, as it was a live version of what was happening inside of her.  

She openly stared at the diagram in fascination and wonder. It was just an added bonus that staring over his shoulder made _him_ feel uncomfortable for a change. He grabbed the parchment paper and snatched it away, moving to his clipboard to record his findings. Hermione was curious at what he would find but there was no way she was going to ask him, in case he interrupted it as nervousness. 

 ‘Now I need to take some samples from your cervix Miss Granger, please place your feet on the stirrups here. He had the nerve to lift her legs onto the stirrups for her. His hands were cold and unwelcome. She wanted to kick him but the corners of his mouth were lifted by his smugness stopped her. He wasn’t going to win. He was definitely pressing the boundaries of what was appropriate now. ‘Take it as a sign you’re getting to him,’ she thought, and she gave her sweetest grinning smile to him.

His face folded in on itself as he wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brow at her, pursing his lips. His forehead was littered with stray hairs sticking to his perspiration. His scowl didn’t disappear as he lifted a white clean glove from the box and stared intently at his hand as he put them on. This man did everything like he was diffusing a bomb.

She laid back and stared at the ceiling, feeling strangely open and tense waiting on him touching her, but she relaxed her body into the chair as much as she could.

‘I’m just going to insert my fingers to help lubricate Miss Granger,’ she couldn’t see his face but she could hear in his voice he expected her to be in a panic. ‘I am also feeling around physically for any abnormalities.’ 

It felt intrusive when he did it, moving his fingers within her feeling around. It didn’t feel remotely sexual, but awkward and uncomfortable. She couldn’t really say she was right in feeling too violated if anyone else had been doing the procedure she wouldn’t have found it so uncomfortable, there was just something about this man that put her on edge. She felt him leave her body and she released the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, awaiting the next uncomfortable thing on the agenda. She knew the speculum was next.

‘You shouldn’t feel any pain with this next part, but it won’t feel comfortable,’ he inserted them into her and opened them. She opened her eyes at the ceiling by the strange feeling. ‘I’m just going to take a few samples of your cervix,’ he wasted no time in inserting the cotton swab and she felt it rub against a sensitive spot inside her. It was only a soft cotton swab, but it felt like it was roughly scraping. He took several swabs, securing them in long cylinder jars and he labelled them all thoroughly, setting them down beside one another each the exact same distance from the other on the table. Finally, he removed the speculum.

‘You’re done with the physical examination,’ he said, barely keeping the contempt from his voice as he removed his gloves. It was all over and she could now leave and forget the entire thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> I know it's a little uncomfortable to read this part, especially after Hermione's emotional turmoil in the previous chapter but I promise I'm going somewhere with all of it. lol 
> 
> As usual, please let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Comfort   
> xxx


	5. Saved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the previous chapter. 
> 
> This part's much safer to read.

 She got off the chair and quickly pulled up her underwear and her skirt, tucking her shirt in and trying to seem as relaxed as possible. She made a point of not checking to see if he had watched her. She put on her jacket and straightened her skirt, grabbing her handbag, she stood at the chair she was originally sitting in as he wrote up her notes.

‘Is there anything else healer?’ intentionally confusing him as a superior. He knew she was highlighting his lower status and his face turned beetroot red. He was gripping on to his quill so hard she thought it might bend.

 ‘No, that’s everything, Miss Granger,’ he said through gritted teeth.

She faked her biggest and most sincere looking smile, ‘Thank you for all your help, healer. You certainly made me feel very comfortable,’ she rubbed it in his face that he had lost. She turned to the door her heart rising in her chest. She had outplayed him, he couldn’t exactly report her for not cooperating when she had let him work without creating a fuss.

She had a feeling her comfort was exactly the opposite of what the man wanted. Or perhaps what he’d been instructed to provoke, she brushed the thought away immediately. she sounded like a conspiracy theorist claiming the water was poisoned by the Government. She huffed out a laugh at her own thoughts which must have snapped the last of the man’s control.  

As she opened the door she felt a tight grip around her arm clenching just short of pain, the hand trying to pull her back. She resisted his tug and turned back to bore her wildest most feral eyes into him. She felt her hand go for her pocket containing her wand. 

‘Miss Granger!’ she heard a surprised aristocratic drawl behind her. She spun around in the man’s grip to see Lucius Malfoy leaving his appointment across the hall and at that moment she wasn’t sure which of these snakes was the most likely to bite her.

His grey eyes looked between her and the furious Mediwizard’s red face, then they travelled to the death grip he had on her arm. Recognition instantly registered on his face as he pursed his lips and raised his head in disgust.

‘Miss Granger, what a delight to see you. You must allow me to escort you to the reception area,’ he said somehow managing to make his friendly greeting a threat to the man behind her. He moved closer and offered his arm, purposefully putting his cane in his right hand, offering her his left arm which meant the Mediwizard would have to release her for her to take that arm.

‘Provided she is all finished…Healer?’ She was impressed, he had figured out the best way to infuriate the man within seconds. She felt him squeeze a little tighter on her arm in fury and he stared up at Lucius, who looked back at him with power.

The longer the grey eyes penetrated the Mediwizard the more his hand reluctantly slip off her arm. He smiled bitterly, ‘Of course, good day Miss Granger,’ he said through gritted teeth. 

She stared at Lucius’ offered arm, he was offering her an out, she’d be a fool not to take it. As much as Lucius Malfoy and she were not old friends like he’d pretended, he seemed like the lesser of two evils at the moment. Better the enemy you know after all.

She couldn’t understand why he had offered his help. It wasn’t like the man she knew to save a Muggle-born. Either he had seriously changed, or he wanted her to owe him a favour; knowing his reputation it was probably the latter.

 The Mediwizard’s nostrils flared as she took Malfoy’s arm. She supposed that was a bonus that he was annoyed by Malfoy’s presence. The solid arm holding on to hers made her feel strangely grounded. As much as Hermione and the elder Malfoy’s relationship was strained at best, his was the first familiar face she had seen all day, and all things considered, he had actually done something nice for her.

He smiled cryptically at her and they began to walk down the hall. She snuck a glance at him through the sides of her eyes. He looked regal as usual even under the tense circumstances. There was a strange feeling about walking elbow to elbow with him, he somehow made you want to stand up straighter, but not in inferiority. She didn’t have time to follow that thought to the end as he looked off to the right but murmured to her quietly, ‘Don’t let go yet. His eyes are still fixed on to the back of my neck.’

They continued in their silence, and even after they heard his door slam shut she didn’t let go of Lucius’ arm.

‘Are you alright, Miss Granger?’ he asked softly as they approached the waiting area. It felt strange to hear his voice say something softly. She had heard so many things in his tone, condescension, anger, superiority, but never anything remotely soft.

She realised she was taking too long to reply when he stopped at the entrance to the reception area, locking eyes with her, eyebrow raised as if to say, ‘well?’

‘Yes, I’m fine…Thank you,’ conveying the usual polite thanks for asking how she was but also communicating her thank you at diffusing the situation with the man upstairs.

‘That’s quite alright,’ he smiled at her before releasing her arm. ‘It is a pleasure to see you, Miss Granger,’ he lowered his head politely, ‘I suppose I’ll see you at your proposal to the Wizengamot next week.’ And with that he was gone, striding towards the exit. 

Hermione knew she would have made short work of that Mediwizard with her wand, but it likely would have given him precisely what he wanted. The man had been intent on making her uncomfortable, giving in to her anger at that point would have given him a victory. It likely would have been another scandal to attack her reputation, attacking Mediwizards and healers. No doubt the Prophet would have it on the front page tomorrow that she’d had a full mental breakdown following her humiliating split from Ron.  

No, she didn’t need saving from the Mediwizard. The strange thing was Lucius had, knowingly or not, saved her from herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please please leave me a comment, whether you liked it or not! I love reading your thoughts. 
> 
> Big bad ministry somehow makes Lucius Malfoy look like the good guy! lol
> 
> Comfort 
> 
> xxx


	6. It Can't Be Today

She threw herself into her work that day. Malfoy had reminded her that her proposal for the Wizengamot was next week and she had plenty of refining she needed to do before she could approach them.  She would also rather forget the feel of _his_ fingers digging into her arm. She felt like she could still feel his grip on her arm even now. Anytime her thoughts silenced she thought, ‘what would have happened if Malfoy hadn’t been there?’

She shook her head and looked back down at her proposal speech. She was working towards convincing the Wizengamot to further tighten punishment for house-elf mistreatment. While her laws forced the Wizengamot to act on the cases of cruelty she brought them, it didn’t mean they treated them fairly. The trials had been a joke with the minimum penalty given in nearly every case brought to them. What was the point when you could kill your house-elf for a fine- a heavy fine- but how could life ever be valued like a bag of gold from Gringotts?

It was then that a solo white paper aeroplane squeezed through the letterbox in her door and landed smoothly on the paper in front of her. She sighed, expecting it to be something trivial. The only time other departments felt the need to send her a memo it was usually a request for a favour, asking her to deploy a whole team to take down a few troublesome gnomes as if she hasn’t got anything better to do.

She opened the memo mouth already tight expecting the worst. 

_Mione, dinner at ours around five? Ginny’s doing bolognese!_

Beneath it, he had drawn a picture of himself. The little character stuck out his tongue and lifted its arm to rub up and down his belly. The speech bubble that came from his mouth said ‘yumm.’

She laughed at his cute little drawing. It seems Harry hadn’t really grown up all that much from school, but she loved him for it. He hadn’t had a chance at childhood so she let him have his fun when he could.

_Harry, you shouldn’t be using the memos for these! Send an owl before you get us in trouble. Of course I will be there._

She thought it sounded like she might really be mad at him, she held the feather of her quill to her chin as she thought of how she could make the memo sound less formal.

_Harry, you shouldn’t be using the memos for these! Send an owl next time before you get us in trouble, or worse fired. Of course I will be there. xx_

‘There,’ she smiled folding up her memo. She knew Harry would read it in her first-year swot voice and laugh, and the kisses took the edge off in case he didn’t get it right away.

She lifted her neat little plane and propelled it into the air. It flew doing a little loop-the-loop before it slid through her letterbox.

 

* * *

 She arrived in Harry and Ginny’s chimney just in time to see Ginny frantically cast a stirring spell on her sauce while she dumped the water out from the pasta. The young Weasley hadn’t quite perfected Molly’s art just yet. Hermione walked into the kitchen taking her coat off on her way through the dining room.

‘Hermione, thank god,’ she said in relief, ‘Can you get the garlic bread out of the oven?’

Soon the table was set with spaghetti bolognese and garlic bread, and all three friends had sat down to eat.

‘So, it really wasn’t that bad then Ginny?’ Her boyfriend asked in concern.

‘No, it was fine. It _definitely_ was more invasive than what the Ministry said but the Mediwitch was really gentle and soft with me. She explained everything that she was doing and why. It was a little uncomfortable sometimes, like with the _dreaded swabs,_ ’ she said in an exaggerated tone of horror. She leaned into Hermione before smiling in the beginnings of a laugh, ‘but it was fine. The Mediwitch kind of reminded me of my mum so it wasn’t too bad.’

“I wasn’t expecting it to be so…muggle,’ Hermione said.

‘Well, my Mediwitch said that wizards haven’t really done this before, which makes sense or most of the Slytherin purebloods would be constantly poked and prodded.’ She poked Hermione on the arm pulling a pretend evil face, ‘you know how obsessed they all are with making the next _Pureblood generation_ ,’ she rolled her eyes as she piled some spaghetti onto her garlic bread, ‘I guess the war made it okay to take inspiration from Muggle medicine.’ She shoved the bread in her mouth and she’d never looked more like a Weasley. Both she and Harry must have had the same thought as they made eye contact then smiled down into their own dinner.

CLACK CLACK CLACK

Hermione rolled her eyes. She felt like ever since she and Ron broke up the Prophet was being rolled out every two bloody hours. Harry sighed and lifted his wand to open the window. The rude owl flew right into the house, flying through the kitchen into their dining room, they watched as it dropped the paper almost right into the garlic bread in the middle of the table before swooping back out the dining room door into the kitchen and out the window. All three of them looked at each other for a second before laughing.

‘Looks like there’s an owl shortage, the Prophet seems to have employed a few of the Ministry’s bloody cheeky owls,’ Harry said between his laughs.

Ginny leaned forward and picked up the paper, ‘What could possibly be so important to nearly ruin a perfectly good plate of garlic bread?’  The ginger opened the paper and went silent. 

‘I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s noticed their owls! Rude insufferable things!’ Hermione exclaimed grinning at Harry, pointing her fork towards him. They both laughed at each other and were surprised when they didn’t hear Ginny laughing with them.

Hermione started to get concerned, she leaned forward putting her hand on the woman’s forearm, ‘Ginny, what is it?’

Ginny looked at each of them in turn, then turned the front page of the paper. Hermione looked at a photo of her and Harry smiling, arms wrapped around each other in a hug. She frowned, she can’t even remember when it was taken. It was what accompanied the photograph that worried Hermione the most. 

 _Golden Trio Love Triangle After all? Ministry Memo Reveals All!_  

Ginny slid the paper towards Hermione. She lifted the paper and frowned her eyes in anger- not this again.

_The ‘friendship’ between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger has always been of suspicion to many. However, condemning evidence has yet to be found however to link the two together. This writer is now able to reveal that the rumours have always been true. Mr Potter and Miss Granger have been caught sending incriminating memos to each other while at work in the Ministry. Harmless you say? Read the memo submitted by an anonymous source._

 

 

> _‘Harry you shouldn’t be using the memos for these! Send an owl next time before you get us in trouble, or worse fired. Of course I will be there. xx’_

‘This is completely ridiculous,’ she said as she passed the paper to Harry. He read it and slowly looked up to his girlfriend.  ‘Ginny….’ He started. All eyes were fixed on the redhead as silence swallowed the table.

Then Ginny erupted in laughter.

‘Harry you don’t actually think I believe this nonsense do you?’ she could barely contain her laughter. It became infectious, and soon all three of them were hysterical.  

 

* * *

 She stood in her chimney and pulled her cloak close around her, relaxed her shoulders, and steeled herself for work. She hadn’t even done anything, yet today again she was walking to work like a social pariah. She nearly felt like sowing a red letter A to her cloak in irony.

She cleared her throat, ‘The Ministry of Magic.’

When she landed at the Ministry, she closed her eyes and huffed air in through her nose, taking her first step out. She opened her eyes and stopped dead. The person behind her crashed into her back. She barely made out his muffled angry words as he shoved past her. he took a few steps forward out of the way of the stampede of people building up behind her. 

The entire Ministry cavern was…chaos. She stood still like a roundabout as everyone circled around her desperately. She could barely make out much more than colours, feeling like she’d been caught in a flock of swirling birds migrating for the Winter. It wasn’t unlike travelling with a portkey. 

She reached her arm out, hoping to touch the first person she could to ask them what was going on. She gripped a forearm, trying to get their attention. The man stopped and gathered his briefcase into his arms, as it tried to burst. The leather holding it together was breathing, expanding and contracting, suffering under the strain of documents. ‘What’s going on?’ she shouted over the noise around her. 

Just as he went to answer, several paper aeroplane memos caught up with him and began poking at his shoulders. ‘Sorry love I really don’t have time!’ he exploded at her. She saw him grimace as he hurried away, one of the paper aeroplanes had hit him directly in his neck but he didn’t stop, he merely increased his pace. She soon lost him to the walls of people.

The only way to progress was to simply move, hopefully, the flock would move around her. She pressed her handbag to her chest to protect herself as she braved the swarms. She wasn’t the shortest woman, but she felt like she was about three feet high trying to make out her destination. The several people who collided with her on the way to the lifts didn’t stop to say sorry or even to snap at her. Everyone seemed like they were in a dazed panic. She jumped in a lift just as the doors were closing and was swarmed with relief as the doors closed. The lift was so full she didn’t even have to steady herself, she was pressed at almost all sides, and she was thankful she was at the front of the lift so she didn’t feel completely caged in.

She practically burst out of the lift when the doors opened at her floor, the lift was so full she might as well have been pushed out by the swell. She straightened her jacket and started walking towards her office, regaining at least a little of her dignity. 

She hung her cloak on her coat rack and rushed to her desk, throwing her bag on the floor next to her seat and plopping into her chair. She took a minute or two just to find her bearings after her morning of madness. Well, now she knows a little of what it’s like inside a cement mixer.

Her door burst open. ‘Miss Granger, I _am so_ sorry I’m late. I could barely move down there,’ the woman almost dropped the folders and cup in her hand as she tried to stop the door smashing into the coat rack. She failed, and it wobbled dangerously from left to right like a pendulum, eventually, it decided to stand its ground.   

 ‘The queue at the canteen was unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and they completely ran out of tea! Imagine running out of tea! It’s completely ridiculous!’ the woman was now desperately trying to put the folders and the cup on the desk without spilling everything everywhere. ‘I got you coffee, I know you normally don’t like coffee in the morning, you’ve usually had it at home but it’s the best I can do and I got you a croissant to make up for it, you like almond croissants don’t you? Please say you do!’

‘Lydia’

The girl set a plate on her desk, ‘I considered getting you a cinnamon roll but I’m not sure how you feel about cinnamon…’

 ‘Lydia!’

She pulled out a paper bag that had been under her arm, ‘Oh I should have got the cinnamon roll I knew I should have, of course you like cinnamon…’

‘Stop!’ Hermione called out at full volume.

The woman stopped instantly and looked at her, afraid she had overstepped.

Hermione smiled warmly, raising her eyebrows and remained silent. Lydia brought her hand to her lips, ‘I’m rambling again aren’t I?’

‘Yes, quite!’ both women laughed.

After a moment Hermione lifted her coffee cup closer to her, ‘Firstly, coffee is fine. Secondly, thank you for the croissant I think I kind of needed it today! Thirdly, don’t worry about being a bit late, I’ve only just come in myself, and _finally_ don’t look at me like I’m going to yell at you I’m not all _that_ scary,’ she huffed out in one breath just like the rambling girl. She smirked as she took a sip of her coffee.

The dark haired girl just smiled innocently at her and held her remaining folders against her chest. She looked off to the side, avoiding eye contact, ‘I just thought that today of all days you might not be in the greatest of moods.’

Hermione laughed, ‘Oh the article with Harry? We have all been through this before,’ she took a sip of her coffee, ‘Skeeter doesn’t scare me,’ she winked.

‘Oh no! I meant the thing about the law! You know,’ she wiggled her shoulders, ‘why everyone’s rushing around?’ mimicking the chaos.

Hermione put her cup back on her desk, as she felt a stone sink in her stomach. She knew the likely answer but she had to ask, ‘Why is everyone rushing around, Lydia?’

Her assistant’s face blanched with horror, ‘You really don’t know?’ she said quietly. At the blank look Hermione gave her, she reluctantly continued. ‘Well,’ she pulled the folder tighter to her chest nervously, ‘the fertility tests showed…the problem…is apparently a lot worse than we thought…’ She swallowed and stayed silent waiting for Hermione to spur her on, but the woman just stared at her. ‘The Ministry intends to force marriages between the _most affected_ families and Muggle-borns….’

At Hermione’s silence, the woman launched into her rambling again, ‘Apparently, it’s all related to genetics, the old families have been intermarrying too long and the gene pool is too small, it's leading to babies not being magical or complications in the births…’ Hermione stopped listening. She leaned back in her chair slowly on the outside seeming completely calm.

 ‘Everyone is running around crazy trying to analyse the rest of the results and assign matches…’ her assistant’s voice drifted in and out in front of her.

She never thought that they would actually do it, she didn’t think Kingsley would _let_ it happen. Why are they doing this? As far as she saw the crisis wasn’t _that_ bad. It all just seemed off key to her. 

After everything the Muggle-borns had suffered in the war, this was too much. She gripped onto the arms of her chair pushed it out from behind her, and stood up slowly smoothing down her skirt. Lydia silenced as Hermione lifted her handbag on the table and pulled out her wand. ‘Miss Granger…?’  Lydia asked, clearly afraid of what the witch would do. She had never seen her like this before- the woman was completely furious, but her face was set and determined. She hadn’t said a word to Lydia as she approached the door, looking every bit the war hero as she stormed out of the room and began down the corridor. Lydia was standing at her office door, ‘Hermione!’ she called out after her, but Hermione’s heels still smacked against the floor.

She made it about three offices down before a hand reached out and pulled her into a dark storeroom. She gripped her wand tight and pointed it where she thought the offender would be.

‘Lumos’ a whisper. The light was soft and revealed the silhouette of a man in front of her. She squinted her eyes trying to figure out who it was. When she recognised the platinum blonde hair, she lowered her wand a little.

‘Malfoy?!’

‘Shh! keep your damn voice down for once, Granger.’ He whispered angrily into her face. The closet too small for any kind of distance.

She scowled at him, ‘Why should I? You’ve practically kidnapped me!’ she loudly whispered back at him.

‘I’ve never given to reason to trust me, and I understand if you won’t,’ he looked exasperated, ‘But at least listen _just this once_ please, listen to me.’ His hair was ruffled out of its usual composure and his frustration was evident in not only his voice but eyes.

‘You have about two minutes.’ She looked at her watch to make a point. He looked a bit like his sixth-year self, which worried her enough to grant him a few minutes. 

He huffed out a breath, ‘I won’t need that long,’ he looked darkly at her and she wasn’t sure if he was warning or threatening, perhaps both.

‘I know you are going to see Shacklebolt about this law, probably going to scream his office down, and you can. But it can’t be today, wait at least until tomorrow.’

‘Why should I trust you, Malfoy?’ folding her arms in front of her, ‘I thought you only looked out for your own hide,’ she looked him up and down.

‘It just so happens saving your hide this time also saves mine. There’s something more going on in the Ministry Granger, you’re too intelligent not to see that.’ His eyes softened.

She knew he was right. From the very first day the law was mentioned in the paper, none of it felt right. Especially not that nightmare of a fertility test. If whatever this law the Ministry intended on bringing in was even a fraction as cruel…she gulped. But was it enough to drive her to trust Malfoy?

‘I’ll explain everything later. For now, it’s bad for me even to be in the same room as you. Leave now and I’ll leave later so we aren’t seen together.’ 

He opened the door and laid his hand on her back gently pushing her through. Just as quickly as the encounter started, it was over. She stood in the corridor, dazed and confused. She couldn’t very well just stand there in the corridor so she walked back to her office to think over what he had said.

She could always decide there if she would go to Shacklebolt’s office or heed Malfoy’s advice. She couldn’t even believe that she was actually considering listening to Malfoy, but he had put into words what she had felt for nearly a week now, and he likely knew more of what was going on. But why would he help her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, do you think she should she trust him?! 
> 
> Thank you for everyone still following along in my story and extra special thanks to you who left me comments, kudos and have subscribed! 
> 
> As usual, comments give me life and are ALWAYS welcome! 
> 
> Comfort xxx


	7. Both of Them?!

Hermione couldn’t believe she was doing this; she was actually going to trust the ferret. She supposed he did have better connections in the Ministry than she did if there was something going on in the Ministry, he would know about it. It also wasn't a stretch to say that he could have changed from his school days either. If even his father could show some kind of human decency towards her, Draco could change too. She wanted to try and give him a chance. Besides, it wasn't as if a one day delay of yelling at Kingsley would change anything. If yelling at him any day would, especially not at four minutes to five, she thought as she looked at her watch. She wasn’t in the mood with the Ministry to care as she packed up her desk to leave early. She might not have blasted an explosion charm through the Minister's door, but she was still furious. 

* * *

 

She walked into her living room, exhausted. The entire Ministry was pandemonium: every meeting she had, cancelled, every memo she wrote, ignored, every office she went to vent to was empty, their inhabitant probably running around somewhere in a panic, or stuck in a thousand meetings about implementing this damn law.

She set her handbag down next to her chimney and began to pull her cloak off her shoulders. She stopped dead as she held her cloak in her hands. It was November, her house should be in darkness but she stood in the light. It couldn’t be Ginny and Harry, she had late Quidditch practice, while he was on a stakeout for their latest case.

She slowly and quietly pulled her wand from her pocket. She leaned down a slid her foot out of her black heel, setting it quietly on the rug, completing the process on her other. Her shoes would only hinder her if she needed to run. She walked over to her kitchen slowly and silently, wand raised and ready. Her eyes drifted to her front door, which lay open wide. Someone had clearly gotten through her wards. She scowled, it would take quite a lot of skill to get through her wards. She felt tense at the thought. She was glad her apartment was quite open plan because now she knew the intruder was either in her bedroom or bathroom. 

Her bathroom door was open. She peeked around the corner, wand at the ready, and checked the room slowly. It was empty, which should have been a relief, but it did nothing to stop the horror of the thought of an intruder in her bedroom.

She crept towards the door, one foot softly patting the floor at a time, light on the floor. Despite the light in the apartment, no light shone from under her bedroom door, just empty darkness that she knew wouldn’t be empty. She turned the door handle as slowly and silently as she could. She held her breath as the door was pushed open slowly. She peeked through the gap and saw a male silhouette standing beside the window. His arms were holding onto the window sill, nearly as if he had to hold himself up. She worried he was hurt, so abandoned her plan of bursting through the door and hitting him with a stupefy before he even knew she was there.

She settled for opening the door loudly, and she pointed her wand at him, ready to cast a shield if she should need it. The figure tried to turn around quickly, clearly startled. He threw himself off balance and fell into a crumpled heap on the floor behind her bed. Hermione panicked, he was either pretending to be hurt or he was severely injured. She turned the light on with her other hand, keeping her wand trained on him with a tight grip. She slowly stalked around her bed, ready to attack if she needed to. She saw the bottom of his boots first, then the dark blue muggle jeans, then the brown jumper. But it was the moonlight reflecting off his red hair that gave him away.

‘…Ronald?’ she asked, genuinely concerned about her old friend.

He turned around with a groan, squinting up at her, ‘Muh…muh…Mione?’

Drunk. ‘Honestly, Ronald, pick yourself up off my floor,’ she said, exasperated.

He fumbled, leaning on her bed, ‘our floor’ he mumbled to himself. He used her windowsill to help steady him for his last push to stand. She knew he needed a sober up potion. ‘Sit on the bed,’ collapse on the bed was more accurate. She went to get a sobering up potion and came back to him leaning dramatically over to the left, threatening to fall onto her bed and fall asleep. 

‘Oh no you don’t!’ she ran to him, pulling him upright and forcing him to drink some of the potion. It would take a while for him to completely sober up, he was absolutely hammered. She needed to get him off her bed though, it felt wrong after all that had happened.

‘You’re going to sober up enough to come into the kitchen with me, and you’re going to tell me what the hell you’re doing in my apartment,’ she scolded.

She heard him mutter ‘our apartment,’ from the bedroom but ignored him. There was no point arguing with him until he sobered a little. After she closed the door and re-warded her apartment, this time making sure she removed Ronald’s access, she put the kettle on and started to prepare two cups of tea. She popped two slices of bread in the toaster.

When it was finished she heard two heavy feet stomping down the corridor. A few slams against the wall followed by a grunt as the drunk man tried to steady himself. She rolled her eyes. ‘Sit.’

He plonked himself on the bar stool at her island and looked at the tea, struggling to keep his drunken eyes open. ‘Is this for me?’ it sounded like he said, pointing to the toast. ‘It should help sober you up,’ she said blankly taking a sip of her tea. She was glad she’d put sugar in it, she needed the energy to deal with the man in front of her, especially after the day she’d had at work.

He lifted the toast to his mouth and tried to catch the toast from his unsteady hand with his unsteady mouth. He shoved a piece in his mouth, and chewed with his mouth open the entire time. Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. He coughed out a laugh forcing crumbs across Hermione’s kitchen island. ‘Always were prissy,’ he ground out at her. She knew him well enough to wait until the potion wore off better.

‘Lav’s never prissy she…’

‘I don’t want to hear about Lavender right now, thank you,’ she interrupted, holding her hand up to stop him. He shoved more toast in his mouth. She sighed, ‘what are you doing here Ronald?’

‘I live here.’

‘No. You don’t,’ she growled out, feeling her patience wearing thin.

‘I’m going to…again. You need to marry a pureblood,’ he gestured his arms out nearly falling off the bar stool, ‘here I am,’ every word out of his mouth was a slur.

‘Ron…’

‘No, no, no, no, listen, listen. Lav and me?’ he wrinkled his face, ‘Mistake. You and me,’ he moved his pointed finger between her and him, ‘was good.’

‘Ronald,’ she said, in warning now.

‘This whole law thing,’ he shrugged, ‘is just fate…you know?’ he looked at her seeming confused, even though he was the one talking.

‘Ronald Weasley, I am not marrying you!’ her patience snapped, ‘especially not because of a damn law!’

‘But…But…we were together, and now you need…Mione, please, who else can it be?’ he said, sobering up but still slurring.

‘Law aside, I’m perfectly capable of finding a husband other than you, Ronald Weasley,’ she was furious at the audacity at his insinuation that she couldn’t have many other options, ‘God Ronald this is worse than that time you asked me if I was a girl,’ she sipped her tea, insulted.

‘But we were together and it was fine, and then my stuff was gone and…you moved everything around,’ he whined. 

She exploded, ‘and then you _shagged_ another woman!’ She clenched her fists and lowered her head, closing her eyes and controlling her temper. He was drunk, and she knew he wasn’t in his right mind but he was completely ignoring his responsibility for the end of their relationship. They sat in silence and she stared at the worktop.

The only way she knew that time had passed was how steady his voice sounded, ‘We were supposed to be together,’ and defeated. The heartbreak in his tone softened her heart a little. She didn’t love him anymore, not romantically, but she hated seeing her old friend in pain.

She put her hand on his shoulder, ‘Ron, our time is over.’ He looked up to see her smiling sympathetically at him.

‘Can we ever even be friends again?’ he asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

She smiled at him, ‘maybe,’ and she was a little surprised to find she was being honest.

Ron had left pretty soon after that, he had largely sobered up and the soberer he got the more awkward it got. She was exhausted and passed out as soon as her head hit her pillow

 

* * *

 

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Congratulations. You have been selected to help save the Wizarding World._

_After the successful gathering of information related to the current fertility crisis, it has been decided by the Ministry to encourage procreation between certain groups in society. The least disruptive means of doing so has been decided to be marriages. You may now consider yourself formally engaged. Your fiancé(s) will be detailed below._

_LUCIUS ABRAXAS MALFOY_

_DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY_

Her coffee cup smashed onto the floor. She stood staring at the letter, she would swear it was a prank if she didn’t know the Ministry could magically trace their letterhead to avoid forgery. The letter was real, the ministry really is going to try and force her to marry _both_ of them. Why on earth was she marrying _both_ of them?!

_Your fertility compatibility is rated as 95%. This means the Ministry would expect a successful pregnancy within three to six months._

Hermione felt like the floor had fallen out from beneath her feet, but she continued reading, hoping she could just accept whatever the punishment was.

_Failure to comply with the Ministry’s decision will result in your expulsion from the magical community, the snapping of your wand, and a ban on any future magic use._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Phyllis Silverthorne._

Hermione threw the letter down on the counter, pushed her fingers into her hair and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little chapter to move us along...we've finally gotten to the matches!  
> I should be uploading some more over the weekend!
> 
> Thank you all for your comments, kudos and subscriptions, and as usual, your thoughts are always always welcome! 
> 
> Comfort xxx


	8. Bombarda!

‘Is it done?’

He stood in the doorway of his father’s study, feeling very much like a boy, even as he tried to stand taller and straighter.

His father ceased writing and stiffened at the sound of his voice, but didn’t look up from his desk. He merely took a deep breath.

‘Yes,’ he replied simply, dipping his quill in his inkpot, returning to his writing.

Draco wasn’t convinced his father was as unaffected as he was pretending. The refusal to make eye contact alone told him the man felt every bit as anxious as he did.

‘She didn’t interfere?’

His father’s quill stilled and he stiffened, ‘no,’ he said, voice steady.

Draco leaned against the door frame, releasing the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, relieved that against all odds their longshot had paid off.

He turned to leave his father be, ‘Draco,’ he looked back at his him, who finally looked back at his son, ‘I’d make yourself scarce at the Ministry tomorrow. We don’t need people knowing you talked to the girl.’

He looked down to his feet, ‘Yes, father,’ he said quietly as he closed the study door behind him. Nothing they were doing sat well with him. He closed his eyes tight as guilt closed its fist around his heart. He didn’t want to be involved with anything like this after everything he had seen during the war, but they weren’t exactly left with a choice. There was only one way to fight at this stage, and it meant he had to betray Granger’s trust. He couldn’t believe that she actually had trusted him, he ran his hand through his hair pushing it away from his face. He hoped with everything he had she would, they needed her to, but now that she had it made him feel sick.

* * *

 

 

‘BOMBARDA’

Kingsley Shacklebolt’s door came right off its hinges was propelled across the room, slamming into the wall. She stormed into his office, wand in hand, to see Shacklebolt gaping at the sudden hole. He took one look at her and opened his drawer fumbling for his wand.

‘Oh for Merlin’s sake, Shacklebolt. I’m not going to hurt you!’ she yelled at him. He looked up at her sheepishly, seeing her wand was at her side and not raised at him. He stopped his fumbling. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his eyes somehow looked puffy and sunken in at the same time, like they were so desperate to close they physically tried to force his eyelids shut. 

‘Minister!’ a shrill squeaky voice called out, ‘Minister!’. Hermione rolled her eyes as his annoying little secretary shuffled quickly into the room, her heels too high to move any faster. ‘She forced her way through!’ she flicked her immaculate blonde hair behind her shoulder, it was too big for her head and she had charmed it so intensely it moved as one mass. ‘I’m sorry Minister! I’ve called the _aurors_!’ she directed the last of her sentence to Hermione, not bothering to hide her distaste, picking at her long nails.

‘Not in his office huh?’ Hermione spat back at the infuriating little woman, who looked too small to be so outraged.

Kingsley stood, ‘Leave us.’   

His secretary squeaked outraged. She was about to respond but she slammed her mouth shut at Kingsley’s deadpan stare, instead she shuffled back through the gap where the door should be. He waved his wand and his door lifted from the floor reattaching itself and shutting softly. He was trying to keep his composure, but the man wouldn’t take his eyes off of her and his hand gripped his wand tight. He was wary of her.

He sat on his chair and sighed, ‘What can I help you with?’

She huffed, ‘Are you quite serious Kingsley?’ her eyebrows rose up her head, ‘You know exactly what I’m here for,’ she frowned, ‘Why am I being forced to marry the Malfoys of all people? And why _on earth_ both of them?!’ 

He sat back in his seat, and she could see the panic behind his eyes while his body tried to convey a more relaxed exterior. He breathed out a long sigh, ‘The matches are final Hermione. There’s nothing I can do.’ He sounded defeated.

‘Not good enough Shacklebolt! According to _this_ ,’ she shook her letter in the air, ‘I’m getting _married_ in a few days! And the _Minister of Magic_ can do nothing about it?’ Her voice getting louder and louder as the man in front of her moved farther and farther back in his seat, recoiling from her tirade. ‘I’ve seen requests for _toilet paper_ take longer to get approved, so how on earth could a marriage license be pushed through so damn quickly?!’ Her hair seemed to expand with each new burst of anger, and she had to shuffle the curls out of her face. She stared at him, furious. 

He shook himself as he realised she was waiting for an answer. He stiffened his back and adjusted his robes, ‘Hermione…it’s too late. I can’t change anything now. Maybe if you had of came to me yesterday…’

She stuck forward and slammed her hands on his desk. She looked ready to explode but closed her mouth and hung her head. ‘Then the least you owe me are some answers.’ The man was avoiding her questions and she wouldn’t let him away with it. 

‘Fine,’ he slumped his shoulders in defeat.

‘Why are you threatening to take the magic of those who refuse?’

 He looked at her like she was speaking another language, ‘Because then everyone would refuse.’

‘So you can make whatever decision you want with our lives and we aren’t allowed to argue back? We didn’t fight a war for this Kingsley,’ she turned her head and bore her eyes into him as he stilled his face.  

‘The crisis…’ he began his clearly scripted tirade but he didn’t get to finish.

‘Don’t talk to me about this so-called _crisis_ ,’ Hermione interrupted, thumping her fist on the desk, ‘It’s just as full of bollocks as this law!’

‘Hermione!’ Harry burst into the room. ‘You have to go,’ he tried to plead with her. ‘I intercepted the call to the Auror's office but they are coming and they mean to arrest you.’

‘Arrest?! What the hell did I actually do?’ 

‘Hermione, you blew the Minister’s door open!’

She gestured to the door, ‘What, the thing you just walked through Harry?’

 ‘I fixed it,’ piped up Shaklebolt. He huffed a breath as if he was about to do something he would regret. ‘Hermione you should go.’

‘She flipped her head back round to him, ‘But you’ve answered none of my questions?!’ 

He bit his lip and looked around quickly. ‘Fine, one more question…and make it quick,’ he whispered, anxiously looking around the room. 

She frowned, and calmed her voice, ‘Why both of them?’

Kingsley swallowed, the man was clearly apprehensive to answer this one, ‘there aren’t enough muggle-borns. Most of them are marrying into families. It was felt that there was a better chance of multiple children the more were involved. Besides, in the event one spouse should die, or be impotent…there’s the other. Marriage to multiple husbands from different families was suggested but people were concerned with…family integrity.’ 

Hermione opened her mouth in an enraged shock, ‘Family integrity?! I’m supposed to give Draco a brother and a son, how does that help family integrity?! You can’t even give me a single good reason for this damn law Shacklebolt!’ He didn’t reply, merely stared back at her.

Harry interrupted the stare down, ‘Hermione, we really need to go,’ he peeked his head out of the door down the hall, ‘now.’ He rushed over to her and grabbed her arm, she let him pull her gently towards the door but she kept her intense stare with Kingsley intact.

 ‘Take the rest of the week off,’ Shacklebolt said, ‘You are getting married soon.’

Harry had to pull Hermione harder as she tried to leap aggressively toward the Minister. ‘Hermione, come on!’ She gave Shacklebolt one last withering look before she let Harry pull her from the room.

 

* * *

 

 

The Aurors piled into his office like ants. They left no area unchecked, behind every curtain, every surface, even every drawer of his cabinets. Kingsley sat uncomfortable, a guest at his own desk in his own office, while the men plundered his room.

‘Well, Shacklebolt…’ at the sound of the deep controlled voice, Shacklebolt clenched his toes in his shoes and could feel the back of his neck beginning to sweat.

He stood in his doorway, arms held behind his back, icy orbs scanning, analysing everything. He walked slowly into the room, every step seemed deliberate. He wore head to toe black, the only skin visible was his colour drained face.

He smoothed his hand hard along his slick head, smoothing down a stray hair which was barely perceptible. His eyes met the liquor table, and he moved towards it. He stared at it for a moment before lifting a single crystal glass in his gloved hand. Shaklebolt refused to take his eyes off the man for a moment. He pressed his back farther into his chair desperately trying to feel some kind of security. It didn’t work.

The man brought the glass close to his face, turning it in his hand, inspecting it. He set it carefully down on the table exactly where he picked it up from. He lifted the bottle of firewhiskey with both hands, reading the label for a moment before setting it back down. The bottle barely made a sound as it connected to the rich mahogany. He placed his hand on the lid of the bottle and turned it precisely ninety degrees, before putting his band back to restart the process. Once the lid was removed, he placed it gently beside his glass. 

He lifted the bottle and paused just as the liquid was about to spill, he tipped the bottle every so carefully so that it poured it out slowly. He leaned his face right down to the class, ensuring he put the exact right amount in the glass. He set the bottle down as if it could smash in his hands, setting the lid back on the top, stopping to straighten it perfectly before twisting it back on with the same ninety-degree movements.

He lifted his glass to his mouth, unnaturally calm, ‘Where is she?’

Kingsley swallowed. ‘I don’t know, she left.’

‘Was anyone…’ he swirled the whiskey in the glass and brought it to his nose, ‘with her?’

‘No,’ Kingsley lied. He could feel sweat dripping down the back of his robes.

His head spun around with almost the same precision he did everything, ‘Really?’ he raised an eyebrow. He set the glass down exactly in the middle of the coaster on the table and pulled his cloak together as he approached Kingsley. He smiled at the man, but Kingsley felt even more on edge. The man’s smile was bitter and threatening, and the only time it met his eyes was when he was taking complete and utter joy in someone else’s suffering, or in victory. 

He placed his hands far apart on Kingsley’s desk, exactly where Hermione’s had been barely five minutes before. He leaned into Shacklebolt’s face, ‘I would encourage you not to forget what’s at stake here…Mr. Shacklebolt,’ he tilted his head at him, still smiling, and stared at the man. Shacklebolt nearly shook with the effort it took not to show his discomfort, and he was not a man that was easily perturbed.

‘I assure you, I haven’t forgotten.’ Kingsley said through his teeth, his discomfort now edged with anger. 

The pale man sucked in a loud breath through his nose and suddenly straightened. Kingsley had to suppress his jolt. The man stretched himself into a stiff, straight posture as he straightened his cufflinks.

‘Good. It would be a terrible shame if you did.’ He turned his back to Shacklebolt and walked with precise strides out of the room, his Auror ants following him. 

Kingsley now sat alone in his office but he didn’t feel any better. The man's presence wasn't something you shook off easily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, where have we seen this man before? ;) 
> 
> As usual, let me know what you think, it really means the world to me! 
> 
> Also, feel free to chat to me by email if you'd like! Comfortablesilence110@gmail.com
> 
> Thank you for reading!! 
> 
> Comfort xxx


	9. Every Damn Time

SLAM.

He slammed his fists into his desk. He felt rather than saw the men at his door jolt, and he smirked. As angry as he was, their reaction pleased him, he could sense their fear. But it didn’t dampen the rage flowing through his body like lava. He could feel the throbbing in his head so strong his vision blurred.

‘Every time,’ he mumbled.

 SLAM.

 ‘EVERY DAMN TIME.’ he yelled spitting across his desk.

A tiny dot of saliva landed just off centre on the desk. He wrinkled his nose up in disgust, and slowly pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, lightly dabbing at his lips, then carefully dabbing the little dot on his desk, he scrubbed and scrubbed at it until he was fully sure it was gone. But it still sat in his mind.

‘He was supposed to be there,’ neither man responded.

He heard the men swallow, and he knew they’d be looking nervously to one another.

‘HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THERE WITH HER!’. He took a minute to try and calm. His hair was spilling down his face, making him want to crawl out of his own skin. He slicked it back, wiping his hand across the protruding vein in his head. The dot the dot.

‘The little witch keeps _dodging_ me at every turn.’ The dot the dot the dot.

He began to pace, wringing his hands, ‘She was supposed to fight the tests,’ he spun on his heel changing direction, ‘she was supposed to do this yesterday,’ he turned, ‘when we were ready and waiting,’ he spun, ‘she was supposed to bring _Potter_ to Shacklebolt.’ His thumping in his head just wouldn’t stop. The dot the dot the dot.

‘I will have her,’ He stopped pacing, precisely in the middle of the room. The heartbeat in his head became so loud it was all he could hear. The dot the dot the dot.

‘I. WILL. HAVE. HER,’ he burst. The men flinched backwards, mainly stopped by their shoulders hitting the wall.

‘YOU!’ he pointed at one of the men, whose face immediately drained of colour, ‘Get someone in here now to clean my desk, it's _filthy_!’

They looked to him, then back to the perfectly immaculate desk. He knew what they were thinking, everything was perfectly aligned, his pen sat straight precisely a third of the way across his desk, it was otherwise empty and gleaming. They couldn’t see what he saw. They couldn’t see the remains of the _ugly disgusting_ DOT. He had wiped it away but it was still there, in his mind. They couldn’t see it. They didn’t understand. The dot the dot the dot.

One of the men opened the door and whispered to his secretary. He shook his head, trying to silence the heartbeat in his vein, the dot was being dealt with he said to himself.

‘You warned him too early,’ he said, calm, even as he paced. ‘You gave them too much time.’ He stopped and his vision blurred. He leaned his entire body forward. ‘FOOLS!’

‘It won’t happen again sir,’ a man bumbled.

He whipped his head round to look at he who dared speak up. He could feel his eyelids stretch to the limit as he widened his eyes at the man. His lungs expanded in his chest as he took a step towards the wizard, head tilted. The throbbing in his head was even louder than before. The dot the dot the dot. The man was visibly shaking the closer he got to him, so he moved until he stood with his face inches away from him.

His secretary slipped in through the door, fumbling with muggle cleaning chemicals and towels. She nearly tripped over her feet on the way in, which made him smile, but he didn’t take his eyes off the wizard in front of him. She launched the contents of her arms onto the desk almost spilling them and started scrubbing aggressively. She was petrified of him and he soaked it up like her sponge.

He calmed listening to her scrub, the throbbing in his head died down to a gentle pump. He returned to the man in front of him, beads of sweat were forming on the wizard’s forehead, and for a second he worried it might eventually run down his nose and drip on his suit, which would have disgusted him, if not for the delicious static of fear in the air. The man in front of him practically smelt of it, he drunk it in like sweet wine. He smiled sinisterly, ‘Be sure it doesn’t.’

* * *

 

 

‘Hermione, what the bloody hell?!’ Harry whispered loudly back at her, as they ran through the never-ending Ministry corridor. It was empty, save for the lines of doors either side leading to offices. 

‘Harry! Wait!’ she whispered behind him.

‘Not now, Hermione, we need to get out of here!’

He felt on edge, like the very first time they had been in the Ministry, except now they couldn’t hide behind Polyjuice. He knew the Aurors would be hot on his tail. They couldn’t get out the usual way, they needed to be clever. He felt Hermione at his back, and he felt the pressure to come up with something.

‘But we need to...’ she didn’t get to finish as they heard a door open behind them. 

They snapped their heads around to see a wizard leaving his office, he was too absorbed in the folder he held to notice them immediately. But Harry saw his body shift, about to turn their way as he closed his door. He grabbed Hermione’s hand and quickly pulled her around the corner. When he turned around he saw a man’s back to him, and he had no time to react before he smashed into him. Hermione crashed into his back, and Harry tightened his grip on her hand and his wand. The man huffed out an, ‘ohh,’ as he felt something collide with his back.

He turned around and his eyes opened in surprise. ‘Harry!’ he smiled warmly at him. Harry stood shocked, waiting to see if he would attempt anything.

‘I thought I taught my Aurors to be a little more aware,’ he joked. 

Harry stared up at him, silent. Of all the people in the Ministry, it was Robards he’d smashed into, the head of the Auror office. He didn’t quite know how to respond to the man, he expected to be in a duel by now if half the Ministry were supposedly looking for him and Hermione.

The man looked a little uncomfortable that Harry didn’t respond to him and decided to continue, clearing his throat, ‘Well anyway, I’m glad I ran into you, do you have the reports from the stakeout the other night? I already heard it from Weasley, but you know, bureaucracy.’ He rolled his eyes and smiled. 

Harry felt very caught out by Robards’ behaviour, clearly, the man wasn’t suspicious of him. Harry straightened, ‘I... I left them on your desk this morning, sir.’

Robards’ face shifted, he had definitely perceived now that something strange was going on. It was only then he finally looked to Hermione, and their joined hands, that the pieces of the puzzle clicked in his head. His smile disappeared, replaced by an uncharacteristic awkwardness. 

‘Well, Potter, I’ll see you around. Miss Granger,’ he sputtered out before he nodded as he hurried off down the corridor they came from. It was clear to Harry that Robards had misinterpreted the situation and assumed the rumours about them in the papers were true. It bothered Harry but now was not the time to correct him.

Hermione pulled her hand from his and touched his arm with it, pulling him out of his thoughts, ‘Harry…Robards doesn’t know the Aurors are after us?’

‘It looks that way, though it doesn’t make any sense. But we haven’t time, we need to go.’ But where? Harry stopped for a second to think.

Hermione lifted her wand and charmed her hair a dull bland blonde, then transfigured her outfit into a plain brown dress. She took her bracelet off and transfigured it into thick-rimmed glasses. Why didn’t she suggest this earlier, they wouldn’t have had to run down the corridor in a panic? He just looked at her.

‘I tried to tell you! You wouldn’t stop,’ she said in her defence, sounding much like her old know-it-all self. She lifted her wand to him, and he saw a wave of even darker black hair fall into his face. The hair stopped, but the colour black didn’t, transforming his robes. They felt longer and looser, he looked down to himself, ‘You didn’t need to turn me into Professor Snape Hermione,’ she looked at him giggling, he smiled back at her, she knew exactly what she was doing. She re-charmed his hair a light brown, and his robes lightened to a deep Slytherin green. 

‘Seriously, Hermione?’ he tried to adopt his best serious voice.

‘What?’ she said with mock innocence, ‘no one will suspect _Harry Potter_ would run around in Slytherin colours would they?’ she grinned cheekily at him.

‘Oh, never mind,’ he huffed in fake exasperation but he smiled as he walked ahead, ‘There’s a secret exit up ahead, it should take us to Muggle London. We can Disapparate from there.’

‘One last thing Harry!’ He huffed out and turned around impatiently. Her wand was trained at his face and he flinched a little before he felt his glasses shift shape around his face. 

As soon as they finished she grabbed his arm and pulled him along. They walked, safer now in their disguises, as long as no one looked too closely. They walked side by side, keeping a respectable distance. 

‘So this exit, how come it’s not in the books about the Ministry?’ He rolled his eyes. Of course she had read up on it.

‘It’s a secret exit only a few Aurors know, in case the Minister ever needs to be evacuated,’ he mumbled quietly to her as he saw the corridor was busier farther ahead.

Harry opened an office door, letting her walk through ahead of him. As they entered he made eye contact with a wizard down the hall. The man’s eyes widened as he saw him, and he tapped his companion on the shoulder before pointing towards Harry. They both tried frantically to push past the people in the thin corridor.

Harry launched himself into the office and slammed the door behind him. He put up a quick ward, it wouldn’t hold them back long but it would give him enough time. He could hear shouting out in the hall. He ran over to one of the filled bookcases. Which bloody book was it again?! He looked at the many volumes. It was something about Muggles… ‘Ah!’ He grabbed onto a red leather-bound book, _A Wizard’s Guide to Muggle London_ and tilted it back from the shelf. He smiled at what a total cliché it was to have a secret exit behind a bookcase as it clicked open wide enough for them to slip through.

‘C’mon,’ he said to Hermione, who stood shocked looking at the bookcase. He smiled to himself, she was probably a little outraged that for once she wasn’t the one with the answers.

As soon as they were inside the bookcase closed again. There was very little room in the secret compartment. They were pressed in tightly together. Harry fumbled to get his wand hand raised high enough to tap the lightest stone brick behind them. When he finally succeeded the floor started to rise.

He looked through the books to see the two men burst past his wards into the room. They looked around confused as more men bounded into the small office. The floor moved past where he could see them and instead light burst into their space. Harry squinted as his eyes adjusted. They were in an old telephone box; which had been discarded down an alleyway. 

She burst out of the small space, bending over with her hands on her knees, breathing out in relief, ‘God that was close!’

He walked out of the claustrophobic space and pushed the long hair out of his face. ‘Yeah, it really was…but I’d much rather get going.’ He couldn’t quite calm until they were as far from the Ministry as they could get. He looked around the abandoned alleyway, it looked more like a scrapyard, but he supposed all the better to hide the Ministry exit.

‘We could just Apparate here…’

‘No, I’d rather go through an actual Apparation point.’ She interrupted. Harry rolled his eyes, ever a stickler for the rules.

‘Fine then, there should be one very near here,’ he made to walk out of the alley.

‘Harry? Your clothes,’ she called out after him. 

He looked down at his robes, he would look quite outrageous in Muggle London. He held his arms out, letting Hermione cast. He felt his hair move back up his face, returning to its usual black as the robes tightened around his legs, turning to a perfectly tailored grey suit.

She turned her wand to herself and put herself in typical workwear, dress clinging to her thighs as it turned to a pencil skirt and shirt combination. He saw his reflection in a discarded sheet of broken glass. He looked…better. He kind of looked like a modern Clark Kent, with his black hair short at the sides, longer at the top swept back fashionably. He thought his scar would be terribly obvious if he shortened his hair, but it had faded significantly after Voldemort’s death, instead, it was just a bolt of skin slighter paler than the rest of his face.

 ‘Not bad actually… Might stay this way. Do you think Ginny would like it?’ he smirked as she huffed out impatiently with him walking past him, but her smile told him she was quite amused.

They walked through the London crowds towards the apparition point.

‘Do you think it’s safe to go home?’ She asked him, shuffling herself past the masses.

‘I don’t know. We should maybe go to Grimmauld for a while.’ They turned down another alley towards their safe Apparition point.

‘Is it even still safe there after everything that happened? How do we know this isn’t related to the Death Eaters?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know Hermione!’ he stopped as they reached their destination, far away from Muggle eyes. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, she lifted her wand and cast a quick Muffliato. ‘I don’t even know if anyone is actually after us. Did you see Robards? He knew nothing about it! How can the head of the Aurors not know one of his Aurors is hunted for helping someone who attacked the Minister escape?!’ she opened her mouth to defend herself but she seemed to stop when she saw the turmoil in him. He really didn’t have any answers, none of it made any sense. 

‘Nothing is right and I don’t know what to do!’ He finally erupted.

She stiffened her lips, but she didn’t chastise him. ‘The burrow then?’ she said quietly.

 ‘But Ron…?’ he asked her.

‘I think right now, Ron is the least of my problems,’ she laughed, and the anxiety in the air around them softened as he smiled back.

 ‘Fine, to the burrow then.’

* * *

 

 

They landed in Hermione’s living room. Harry motioned at her to be quiet, and pointed his wand towards the ceiling, whispering a detection charm. When nothing responded they went room to room, wands drawn, double checking. When they were satisfied it was safe she moved to her bedroom and pulled a suitcase out from under her bed collecting her things.

 Harry stood in the doorway, ‘I need to go and tell Ginny. Do you think you’ll be alright here?’ he asked a little nervously.

‘Harry, you know perfectly well I can handle myself. Besides we’ve checked and warded this place. If anyone tries to enter, I’ll floo out before they can even get through.’ 

He smiled at her, ‘Then, I’ll see you at the Burrow?’ 

She nodded at him as she lay some of her jumpers in the suitcase. 

She had no idea how long she would need to hide out with the Weasleys. She supposed no one would expect she’d go to the Burrow, probably think her too upset with the Ron after his affair. If it were any other family she wouldn’t go, but the Weasleys were warmer and kinder than any family she’d ever met, and they always made her feel safe.

She finished packing her case and left it in the living room. She began to pack up Crookshanks’ food. He seemed to know what was happening as he pulled his bed into the living room beside her suitcase. She smiled at him, it scared her how intelligent he was. He was nearly human sometimes, but that’s precisely what she liked about him. She put his carrier down onto the floor and placed his bed inside. He looked up at her, then hissed a little at it.

‘It’ll be easier this way buddy,’ the cat huffed out air but made his way into the crate. She felt bad for him and pushed a treat through the bars, and he purred a little. She gathered her things and set them by her fireplace. She took one last look around her apartment, it could be a while before she returned.

She went to lift her suitcase when a god awful squawking outside her window made her turn. She looked to her kitchen window, which was a puff of feathers. She ran over to see two owls fighting to get to her window sill. Both had letters in their beaks, and they clawed at each other with their feet.

She opened her window and one of the owls threw its letter at her and flew away. The other sat regally in her window frame, orange eyes trained on her as it puffed out its wings in victory. She was a little angry at it for fighting outside her window, but she looked down and saw the other letter was from the Ministry. No doubt the other owl started the fight, the Ministry’s owls were wicked things.

She walked towards it and gently took the letter from its mouth, placing it on the counter. It sat fixing its black and cream feathers. She looked up sympathetically to the owl, poor thing was just trying to do its job. She went to her refrigerator and found some raw chicken breast. She cut it up, looking over to the owl who danced from foot to foot, eyes never leaving the plate. She set it on the window sill and the owl began swallowing the chunks whole. She smiled and cast a strong stasis charm on the remaining food, in her hurry, she had forgotten about her fridge.

She lifted the Ministry letter first.

_Miss Granger,_

_Please consider this letter official notice of your two-day suspension from your position within the Ministry of Magic while an enquiry is launched into the events that took place this afternoon._

_You will be owled when a verdict has been reached. Using charms to hide your location from the Ministry owls during this time is strictly forbidden. The owls are also unable to pass any information to the Ministry of Magic._

She didn’t bother reading the rest of the disclaimer. She didn’t believe anything she read from the Ministry anymore. At this stage, she wasn’t even sure if the letter was from the Ministry. Everything she knew had been thrown into doubt.

She would see what everyone else made of the letter, maybe Harry got one too and it might reveal something. She just needed to get to the burrow.

The eagle owl remained at her window after it had finished the chicken. ‘Oh Sorry! I hadn’t realised you were waiting for a response.’ She quickly lifted the letter it had delivered and turned it over to open it. Her mouth fell open in shock when she saw the elegantly decorated M on the wax seal of the letter. Her heart began to thump, what on earth could they possibly have to say. She opened the letter and read the elegant script.

_Dear Hermione,_

_My father and I would like to invite you to lunch in Malfoy Manor tomorrow afternoon._

_I think there is much we need to discuss. I have instructed my owl to await your response._

_If you decide to accept our offer, please come alone. Trust is hard earned in these difficult times._

_Draco Malfoy._

TRUST?! He was going to talk about trust now?! If she hadn’t listened to the bloody ferret and gone to the Minister the day she planned to she wouldn’t even be in this mess! Well, she might have still got suspended from the Ministry but at least she wouldn’t have been due to marry the bloody Malfoys in a few days. If what Kingsley said was true.

There was no way they didn’t have a hand in this. She couldn’t help but feel a bit betrayed, for once, she actually decided to trust him and it felt like he threw her to the wolves. She retrieved her parchment and quill and had to actively try not to push her quill right through the paper as she replied.

_Dear Draco,_

_Trust is hard earned indeed; it is also easily broken. Why should I trust you?_

_Hermione Granger._

She wanted to say so much more, she wanted to rip him to pieces with her response. But she held her tongue. The Ministry had already intercepted a message of hers, and next thing it was blasted over the gossip column in The Prophet. The last thing she needed right now was yet another bloody scandal. He would know exactly what she was referring to anyway.

She folded up her letter and placed her own seal down. It was an intricate stamp of her own initials, decorated in vines much like her first wand. She liked it but rarely used it. She didn’t even own an owl to send many letters. She cast a quick spell over it, making it resistant to a Reparo, at least if her letter was intercepted he’d know when he got it. 

She passed it to the owl who swooped out of her window. She closed it and looked over to her suitcases. Now that the Ministry had suspended her it didn’t seem vitally important that she leave her apartment, but with everything that was going on, she supposed it would do no harm. Besides, Harry would panic if she didn’t show.

‘Reducio,’ her case grew small and she placed it in her coat pocket. She lifted Crookshanks’ carrier and stood in her chimney.

She threw down the floo powder and called out ‘the burrow’ and was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...we are getting a little closer to our mystery man... I'd love to know your thoughts on him!
> 
> Should she go and talk to the Malfoys?? Can they be trusted?
> 
> As usual, please please let me know what you think I love hearing your thoughts and theories! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading/subscribing/leaving kudos/commenting it really means a lot to me!! 
> 
> Lots of Love,   
> Comfort   
> xxx


	10. You Wouldn't Marry Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for my distance this week! I haven't been feeling too well. Hopefully I'm all better now. 
> 
> This is a very short chapter, mainly because I will be uploading the rest tomorrow!  
> I hope you enjoy it anyway. 
> 
> Btw, be sure to note that the first section is from Lucius' point of view, so everything might not be quite the way he perceives it...

‘Draco, will you cease pacing? You’re going to ruin the rug.’ He drank the last swig of his whiskey. 

‘She’s not going to reply,’ Draco asserted. He stopped abruptly, looking off into the distance, ‘What if she does?’ a bit panic-stricken. Lucius rolled his eyes, irritated by his son’s inability to keep calm. He sat forward, refilling his glass of firewhiskey, pouring a second glass. He gestured to the armchair beside him. His son looked furtive but sat down taking the second glass and downing a gulp of the liquid. They both stared into the roaring fire, silent, and Lucius was glad of the minute’s peace. 

The silence was pierced by a loud hoot echoing through the cold air outside the manor. As soon as the sound penetrated the room Draco was off his seat striding towards the window. Lucius merely took another swig of his whiskey. If they had any hope of pulling off their plan, the boy would need to calm himself better. His nerves hadn’t seemed to settle since the war.

‘Good boy Merxie,’ his son welcomed the owl with a pet and a treat when he had taken the parchment from him. Lucius rolled his eyes again, pet names, stroking and thanking owls, Cissy had clearly ruined him so much as a boy that even as a man he was desperate for affection.

He gently patted Merlin’s back beside him, feeling a little guilty that he wasn’t as affectionate with his own animals. His Irish Wolfhound sat proudly next to him, content to be close to its master. He looked around for the other, seeing she had snuggled in closer to the fire. His dogs were loyal, proud and obedient. He didn’t need to coddle them he decided.

He looked at his son, who stood staring at the letter, his eyebrows drawn together. Lucius took another sip and huffed out a bitter laugh, clearly the girl had not responded in their favor.

 ‘Well, Draco,’ he lowered his glass to the arm of the chair, keeping it in a loose grip, he adjusted himself crossing his legs. ‘We haven’t got all night.’

In a rare show of nerve Draco threw her reply onto his lap. Lucius looked to the parchment, and back at his son, firing him a reproachful look. To the boy’s credit, he held his stare. He set the whiskey on the side table and lifted her reply with both hands, not taking his eyes off his son except to read.

_Dear Draco,_

_Trust is hard earned indeed; it is also easily broken. Why should I trust you?_

_Hermione Granger._

He huffed out a laugh, ‘stupid girl. You saved her and her precious Potter and now she thinks you untrustworthy. It’s really quite ironic.’

Draco huffed, running his hand through his hair, ‘Well what the bloody hell do I say back to that?’ He heard him flop onto the office chair behind him.

‘We must appeal to her inherent sense of curiosity. You once told me she wouldn’t keep her nose out of anything at Hogwarts. And she'd do anything for her friends,’ he swirled his whiskey lazily in his glass, ‘If she wasn’t the sort to turn a blind eye then, I’d say that she hasn’t changed that in the years since…’ he drank his whiskey, confident that he had planted the seed. He smirked, knowing he was right when he heard the scratch of Draco’s quill on the parchment.

* * *

 

‘Hermione!’ was what she heard the second she arrived in the Weasley’s chimney in a puff of green fire.

She made out the figure of Mrs. Weasley moving around the large wooden table towards the chimney. ‘George! George!’ she called.

George appeared behind her covering his ears, ‘Alright, alright, mother! No need to shout I was right behind you.’

Molly jumped turning around, clearly surprised to hear her son so close behind her, likely caught up in the excitement of Hermione’s arrival. She put her hand on her son’s arm gently motioning him forward, ‘Ah, sorry love. Help Hermione with her things will you dear?’ 

‘No need Mrs. Weasley!’ She called climbing out of the chimney, ‘I reduced everything before I came.’ She put Crookshank’s crate on the floor, opening the little door. He immediately ran out, assessing his surroundings and finding that the knitted blanket over the armchair was precisely the right place for him. He had rarely been in the burrow, but he always seemed relaxed and comfortable, it seemed that he felt the warmth and love that filled the Weasley home.

Hermione was still watching her cat when she was engulfed by a hug by the elder Weasley. She eagerly returned the hug, if there was ever a time when a motherly influence was welcomed it was now. The matriarch pulled back from the embrace taking Hermione’s hand in her own, ‘I keep _telling_ you all to call me Molly!’ she chastised going into the kitchen, but her tone was light and she was smiling as she walked, taking all sting out of her words. She led her towards the large table where Harry, Ginny, Arthur, and Ron sat. The latter sitting at the head of the table, looking sheepishly down, fiddling with his jumper, only daring quick glances up at her. Molly let go of her hand to start pulling mugs out of the cupboard. ‘Sit next to Ginny dear, I think we all need a good cup of tea.’

‘Hello everyone,’ she said as she sat down. Only a low muttering was offered, the table deciding it was too awkward to really talk. A quiet thump, and Arthur’s chair jolted, as Molly walked by him. He coughed and spluttered, ‘H...H…Hello Hermione,’ he tried his best pleasant smile. Hermione couldn’t help but smile back at him, knowing exactly what his wife had done. Molly appeared holding several steaming cups of tea, laying them out in front of everyone before taking a seat next to her husband. ‘Now Hermione dear, Harry’s already told us everything about what happened when he got to the Minister’s office, but please tell us what happened before that. Perhaps we can help,’ she smiled her warmest smile. The kind that said you aren’t my child, but you might as well be. Hermione instantly felt comforted but it was in vain.

 She looked down at her hands and rubbed the tip of her ring finger nervously. She knew Harry and Ron weren’t going to take the news well. It really didn’t help Ron was here, she glanced over apprehensively at him, he had been leaning forward on the table, mug in his right hand staring right at her, clearly very interested in what she had to say. As soon as her eyes met his he looked away nervously.

She steeled herself, ‘I got a letter from the Ministry…’ she gulped down her nerves and held her cup with both hands, appreciating the comfort of the warmth, ‘it’s about this marriage law.’

The tension in the room seemed to increase tenfold. Molly stiffened and readjusted in her seat, Arthur broke eye contact and stared down into his cup, Ginny and Harry sat up straighter, and it definitely didn’t escape her notice that the hand holding Ron’s mug had tightened to a death grip. God this wasn’t going to be easy. Sensing her discomfort, Molly reached across the table and lifted one of Hermione’s hand to hold it, giving it a gentle squeeze, ‘it’s okay dear.’ She squeezed the woman’s hand and closed her eyes. ‘I’m to marry the Malfoys,’ she spat out in one quick gush of breath.

 She kept her eyes closed, awaiting the outrage…which never came. She opened her eyes and looked around. Molly’s hand fell loose out of her own, her mouth hung open, brows knitted in confusion. Arthur beside her looked lost. By the time she looked to Harry and Ginny their shock was quickly being replaced by anger. She could feel the low sparks of their combined anger invading the air, each different person’s mixing with the others.

‘The Malfoys? Plural?’ came a dark voice next to Ginny, low but bristling with barely contained fury. She had barely heard Harry like this before, and if she was honest it frightened her a little, to see her best friend who was usually so gentle turn. She merely nodded at him.  

‘You wouldn’t marry me,’ Ron said quietly from his end of the table. Everyone’s heads turned to look at the man. His hands gripped each side of the table, knuckles white with the strength he was putting into his hold. All they could see was the red of his hair as his head was held low, looking at the table, ‘but you’d marry them?’

 The screech of Ron’s chair forcibly pushed back turned everyone’s heads. The chair fell onto the floor with the force. ‘THEM? BOTH OF THEM?!’ He pointed directly at her, ‘You. I bet you did this! To punish me, for Lavender!’

She jumped from her seat, instantly furious, ‘You think _I_ organised this?’ she said voice rising in pitch almost to a screech. She couldn’t believe he was really this selfish, ‘Not everything is about _you_ Ronald!’ she made a face of disgust at him.

Molly made eyes at her daughter and Harry tilting her head, ‘Ginny dear,’ she said. Ginny jumped up from her seat, standing in front of Ron, trying to gently push him towards the stairs.

‘I did the right thing, Hermione,’ he said from behind Ginny, pointing over at her, ‘I offered to marry you and you’d rather marry bloody death eaters?!’

He was slowly moving farther away, especially as Arthur and Harry made their way to help Ginny, trying to gently pull him back by his arms. She couldn’t make out what they were saying to try to calm him. Hermione tried to calm herself before she said something she regretted. Molly moved to sit beside her and was trying to tell her not to listen to Ron, but his voice shouted above everything. ‘Do you forget what they called you? Do you want to be their whore? That’s how they’ll see you. Passed about from father to son!’

Molly had had enough. Before Hermione could respond herself, she jumped from her seat and bellowed the most bloodcurdling ‘RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY’ she had ever heard. Ron gave up fighting and stormed up the stairs, followed by Harry and Ginny. Molly looked to Arthur, clearly communicating to him to leave the two women alone to talk. He nodded and made his way up the stairs.

‘Hermione dear,’ Molly sat next to Hermione, pulling her chair even closer to pull the woman into a tight hug. Hermione laid her head against her mother-figure’s soft chest. ‘None of this is your fault. Ron… you know how he is. He’s mad right now and he lashes out, not that it excuses him,’ she said quickly, ‘but nothing he said about you is true,’ she felt Molly stroke her curls and Hermione melted into her embrace. She hadn’t felt this safe since doing the same with her own mother and she had to admit it felt good to just be the child again.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed in the older woman’s arms. She just knew her back was beginning to get sore from leaning forward. She pulled back and Molly smiled gently at her. She was just about to thank the woman when the Weasley’s window was tapped gently but insistently. 

‘Mail? At this time?’ Molly said, getting up to walk to the window. The window opened to a familiar face.

‘Oh I know that owl,’ Hermione said quickly. ‘It’s Malfoy’s,’ she said a little more sheepishly.

Molly looked a little stunted, ‘Well I guess you’ll need to see what he has to say for himself then.’

She opened the window, taking the letter from the owl and passing him a treat. She walked back to Hermione, ‘I thought a Malfoy owl would have worse manners,’ she commented, handing her the letter.

_Hermione,_

_I would like an opportunity to explain my actions which have made it difficult for you to trust me. I told you that I couldn’t explain at the time, but I will be happy to illuminate tomorrow._

_I must also stress that these ‘difficult times’ will come to affect more and just you and I… which I’m sure you noticed today. It may prove beneficial for you to have more information._

_I assure you that you are in no danger with my father and I. If you can’t trust us, at least trust that for you to come to harm days before our wedding would damage our reputation beyond repair._

_Draco Malfoy._

She read and re-read his letter. He couldn’t say it outright, but he was clearly telling her she wasn’t the only one the Ministry was after. She suddenly felt worried for everyone close to her, perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence that Harry had been informed of her rampage in Kingsley’s office.  

‘If he wants to talk, love, you should probably go. They can’t harm you anyway, not while you’re under their protection through the engagement.’ The matriarch smiled lightly at her. ‘I can’t say I approve by any means, but it can’t hurt to hear what they have to say.’ She looked at her with a sad concern but smiled warmly at her anyway.

She didn’t want to go, but she had to admit that the woman was right. They couldn’t do anything to her anyway, so what harm could it do. And if Harry or the Weasleys were in danger…she would jump into a pit of snakes for them. What was two? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed- even though it was super short! 
> 
> Keep an eye out for the rest of the chapter which I will be posting tomorrow night! 
> 
> What did you think of Ron's reaction? 
> 
> Comfort xxx


	11. Ghost

The hot water ran a purifying trail down her chest, along her scalp, down the line of her back. She closed her eyes and lifted her head, allowing the water to coat her face. She held her breath and cleared her mind, focusing on the feel of the wet heat running rivers down her body. Keen to silence her mind for the first time in days. 

She had long since finished bathing, but in the shower, no one bothered her. There were no owls, no letters, no outbursts, no articles. It was just her and the peace of being alone, a rare thing in the Weasley household.

She ran her hands through her hair, pushing the stray hairs from her face. Her fingertips brushed her skin, soft and wrinkled, and she knew her respite would have to end. She turned off the water and let the rivers become streams, then little droplets down her body. She dried herself and wrapped the towel around her body, walking to Ginny’s old bedroom her allotted bedroom while she stayed in the burrow. She was grateful it was right across the hall, she would have hated to awkwardly bump into anyone coming out of the shower. So far everyone had given her a wide berth after Ron’s outburst.

She opened the wardrobe she had transfigured out of her suitcase and started flicking through the hangers. None of them seemed right. What on earth do you even wear to a meeting with your old nemeses and future husbands?

When she thought about it she didn’t want to meet with them, but she had no real choice, she would have to face them now or at the wedding. At least this way she might prepare herself for what to expect from the marriage…marriages?

She shook her head. She needed to think of the kind of message she would put across. She lifted a grey suit from her wardrobe. It was the most boring and masculine one she owned, too loose in the wrong places, and not tight in any of the right ones. This one says, ‘I’ll be the most boring and cold wife you can imagine just to spite you. Good luck.’ She huffed a laugh, what a message that would be to send, but it was too typical, it was exactly what they’d expect. She needed something that screamed Hermione Granger, but at the same time…not.

She flicked through her outfits, realising how much of her life she must have put into her career because so far her options were a skirt suit or jeans and a jumper. She got to the back of the wardrobe, to the final item. She smiled, it would certainly do. It was a muggle dress, tight fitting, but conservative in its neckline and hemline. But what she really loved about it was the colour. It was the closest you could possibly get to Gryffindor red. It was a bold choice and paired with her golden stilettos she could really make a statement.   

She took off her dressing gown and selected nude coloured stockings to smooth her legs, before slipping into her dress. The bateau neckline of the dress elegantly hugged her collarbones, pinched her waist and her knees only slightly peaked out from under the hemline.

She grabbed her wand, charmed her makeup, opting for natural makeup, enhancing her features but not overpowering them. Before charming her hair into loose curls framing her face.

She slipped on her heels and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked more Muggle than witch, but it reflected who she wanted to project. She wanted to throw it in their faces she was Muggle-born, their reactions would be quite telling. It also didn’t hurt to have the element of surprise.  She’d never been the type much for choosing an outfit with such purpose, she usually left that to the Slytherin girls like Pansy Parkinson. At this meeting though, she’d need all the help she could get.

When she walked into the Burrow’s kitchen she was glad to find only Harry sitting at the table.  It hadn’t really occurred to her that the rest had left for work, it seemed strange to have the Burrow so empty. A scrubbing brush was vehemently scouring a pot in the kitchen sink, at least she knew Molly was home- somewhere. 

‘Hi Harry,’ she called from the bottom of the stairs. He was so engrossed in the morning’s edition of the Prophet he hadn’t noticed her arrival. He had wallpapered the table with bits and pieces of paper, somehow managing to make the Weasley house look even more cluttered.  

‘Hermione you’ve got to see…’ he stopped as he looked up at her. He blinked a little in surprise.  

‘What?’ she asked confidently. 

He looked down and brought his hand to his mouth before he cleared his throat, ‘You-ah…look different,’ he shook his head, ‘anyway, come and see this article!’

She smiled into herself as she walked to him, enjoying the sound of her heels clacking the floor. _That_ was exactly the sort of reaction she wanted, she wanted to throw them off a little. 

She looked over Harry’s shoulder to see the article in question. She saw a picture of Blaise Zabini trying to hide behind his coat’s lapel as he dodged the cameras, walking away from the flashes. The headline above his head read, ‘ _Zabini Family Scandal_ : _Blood status in question_ ’

 ‘They are trying to claim those tests they performed are able to determine blood status, and, apparently, Pureblood Zabini is actually a half-blood. They are using his mother’s reputation and past husbands to imply he isn’t really a Zabini at all. There’s more to all this Hermione I know there is!’ he shifted through his other cuttings, he had one for every article the prophet had published recently.

She lifted one at random, it happened to be the one that had started everything for her, Ron kissing Lavender. She grimaced and threw it down.

‘Harry, when did you do all this?’

‘All morning,’ he looked up at her and shrugged, holding several articles in his hand, ‘I’m an Auror, Hermione. I couldn’t just do nothing.’

She smiled, he was right, Harry never was the type to just sit back and do nothing. ‘Have you got anything yet?’

‘No, not yet. I just know it’s not right. Robards should have known that day…’ He held on to his chin staring down at his handiwork, ‘he should have known,’ he said more to himself than her.

She looked outside to see a large black car pull up outside the Burrow. The car couldn’t scream Malfoy more if a giant snake was painted on the side of it. It was a jet black Rolls Royce Ghost, completely pristine, shining in the winter sun. She was surprised at their choice to send a car; now that didn’t seem very Malfoy.

‘Harry…I have to go. The car is here.’

‘They sent a car? That’s strange. He moved to the window, pulling the curtain slightly out of the way to get a better look out as she pulled her black trench coat around her, tying it at the waist. 

She touched Harry’s back, as he turned she pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her tight. She soaked in the last few moments of comfort before she would inevitably be tense in the Manor, or preparing herself for it in the car, perhaps even enduring an awkward silence with the driver.

‘Hermione, try to get some answers,’ he said into her hair, ‘and be safe. I know you can handle yourself, but just remember it’s the Malfoys here. They are almost always up to more than they let on,’ with one last squeeze she let him go, and walked towards the door.

‘If you’re not back before nightfall I’m barging into Malfoy Manor myself! Wards or not!’ he called after her as she opened the door. She turned and smiled at him before closing the door and turning towards the car.

She eyed the dirt path leading out of the Weasley’s driveway, perhaps her heels weren’t such a good idea after all. It hadn’t rained at least; the earth had been allowed to harden so she wouldn’t lose a shoe. She took careful steps towards the car, trying to retain some sort of grace as she tried not to sink into the ground. She tried to look into the windows of the car but merely saw her own reflection, the windows were completely black. 

 As she approached the rear door of the car opened, and she expected to see a Malfoy but instead she saw an interior as black as the exterior, entirely leather. She peeked inside the door and jolted as she realised it was completely empty. She stood back and stared at the car. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she was only met with silence around her as the car waited. She internally shook herself and stepped into the car. As soon as she sat the door began to slowly shut behind her. She looked around and found she was alone in the car.

She took one last look at the burrow before the car rumbled to life. The burrow got farther and farther away until she could no longer see it. She looked around and found herself deeply unsettled by the steering wheel gently turning by itself as they pulled on to a road.

She had no idea how long she sat staring out of the dark window, avoiding looking at the car’s components moving without a driver. It was only when the car pulled unexpectedly up a small farmer’s lane that she began to really sweat. ‘This isn’t the right way!’ she shouted at the car, unsure if it could even hear her.

It stopped, and everything fell silent. All she heard was the rumbling of the car’s engine. She latched onto the handle of the car, tugging to open the door. She wanted off this ghost train. Now. She could surely apparate and walk the rest of the way or something. The door didn’t budge. She tugged at the handle again, but it was stuck firmly in place. Her breathing rose as she looked around, contemplating what she should do. She couldn’t just stay here until it was dark.

She didn’t even get to think her first thought before she was thrown back into the seat, leather cushioning the blow. She looked out the window to see trees and hedges go by in a green blur. She poked her head between the front seats and her eyes flew open wide. They were headed right towards a brick wall! The abandoned house hurtled towards them. Fear had frozen her solid. She wanted to squint her eyes and scream but she couldn’t even blink.

She maybe only had a few seconds before they collided with the wall. She’d heard that in situations like these time slowed down, but it didn’t seem to for her. One minute the wall was a mile away, the next they were right on it. The bricks in the wall shifted into one another forming a hole in the wall. The car easily passed through, breaking wildly on the other side of the wall forcing her to jolt forward in her seat as it slowed to an acceptable speed.

She leaned her head back, heart pounding so loud in her chest she could hear it in her ears. Her face broke into a grin, and she started to laugh maniacally. She was alive, she was actually alive. The adrenaline rush pumping through her system made her giddy. She laughed until tears welled in her eyes. She dabbed them away with her finger before they could fall.

She wasn’t sure how long she had laughed but when she calmed and looked around, the car was now steadily creeping along another country lane, this one lined with tall hedges, and ended with a beautiful but darkened behemoth of an estate. She couldn’t even remember when the weather had turned, but the tall spirals of the roof pointed into a cloudy grey sky. She sucked in a breath of air as she realised for the first time that she might actually have to live here. She didn’t feel any better as she moved closer, and she desperately had to remind herself that Bellatrix couldn’t appear at the head of the steps into the Manor. 

Instead at the head of the steps stood the two blonde men. Both were dressed entirely in black, and incredibly formal. Draco wore a more modern outfit than his father, opting for a rather Muggle looking black suit, tighter than he used to wear when she’d last seen him at the Manor. Even his shirt and tie were black, making his white hair stand out even more fiercely against the grey stone of the house. Both of his hands were in his pockets but he stood straight. His father stood slightly behind him, his signature cane rightfully at his side. He too wore all black, but the hint of a white undershirt peeked out from underneath his robes.

The car circled around, putting her directly in front of the steps leading into Malfoy Manor. She saw Draco moving down the front steps towards the car. She gathered herself and prepared her best stone face. The car door opened as he approached, and she carefully laid a single leg outside of the car onto the step.

‘Hermione,’ he said politely. She looked to him to see he held his hand out for her. She put her hand in his and exited the car. When she stood on the steps she gently smoothed her coat down.

‘This way,’ Draco said as his hand landed on her lower back, encouraging her forward. So far, he hadn’t touched her in any way, and to have her hand in his leaving the car and now his hand on her back, it felt strangely intimate. What she barely would have noticed from another man, she was hyper-aware of from him. Strangely his hand gave her a weird kind of comfort as she looked up at the elder Malfoy as she ascended the stairs, at least Draco was somewhat familiar. Mr. Malfoy was practically a stranger, worse than a stranger actually.

His face seemed completely blank and unaffected at her arrival, which she expected. She doubted he would give anything away without it being pried from him. She stood a step below him, Draco’s hand still hovering on her lower back. He stood almost at the edge of the step, forcing her to either come into his close personal space or stay a step below him. Hermione smiled, no way was she going to do anything but stand face to face with the man. She took the last step without flinching and stood almost inappropriately close to the patriarch. He raised his eyebrow, he had definitely noticed her challenge, and let her know it too. But he smiled. 

‘Miss Granger,’ he drawled, lifting her hand from her side and kissing her fingers, like an old-world gentleman. She half expected his lips to feel cold, and dry, but they were soft and warm. This surprised her, but she didn’t show it on her face. She couldn’t believe that within the first few minutes she’d had more contact with these men than she had had in the years she had known them.

He stepped aside and allowed Draco to lead her into the manor. She expected it to feel cold and tense inside, but it was warm. She wouldn’t exactly say welcoming like the Burrow but it was better than she thought it would be, even if it was just as dark as she imagined.

The hallway was split by two large staircases, joining in the middle to form a landing. The walls were covered in a dark wood, paired with an even darker floor. The darkness made her feel like she would struggle to feel at home here if she ever had to live here. In the middle of the staircases stood an archway, where several house elves stood in attendance. She eyed them carefully, they all still wore their dirty pillowcases and were obviously not free. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at their enslavement, but she immediately regretted it. They had clearly misinterpreted her meaning as they all looked crestfallen, their upright postures fell a little, and one little one’s eyes were filling with tears but she tried her best to hold her upright pose, sticking her little nose in the air. Hermione’s face softened and she went left Draco’s touch to go to the little one, who shook as she approached.  

Hermione kneeled down to the little girl. Her huge eyes widened even farther in surprise, she was stepping from foot to foot, talking the tiniest little moves away. Farther down the line she saw a much older elf carefully watch her through the corners of his eyes. Upon realising she had caught him looking he stiffened up and looked straight ahead.

She looked back to the little one, ‘Hello there. What’s your name?’

The little elf squeaked and fiddled with her pillowcase. ‘Mipsy Ma’am’

‘Well Mipsy, my name is Hermione. It’s very nice to meet you.’ She smiled warmly at the elf who looked up more confidently.

‘Is you Mipsy’s new mistress ma’am?’

Hermione chuckled a little, ‘No, Mipsy. I’m not your mistress.’ The little girl’s eyes filled with tears again.

‘When you’re done upsetting the House-elves, Miss Granger, luncheon awaits.’ She didn’t miss Draco’s disbelieving glare at his father’s direction.

She looked up to Mr. Malfoy, ‘I didn’t mean…’

‘I know,’ was all he said as he gestured to a room just off from the foyer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter ended up a lot longer than I intended, so I've split it into two... next chapter we will have the long-awaited meeting with the Malfoys! (Where I will explain the unusual means of transport for a start :P ) 
> 
> As usual, please please tell me what you think! I live for it! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, (and being patient with me)  
> Comfort  
> xxx


	12. Traitorous Hypocrite Bitch

Hermione felt guilty for upsetting little Mipsy. She hadn’t intended to reject her. She merely wanted to convey that, even if she had to marry the Malfoys, she wouldn’t have anything to do with her enslavement.

She stood tall, determined to show strength to the men in front of her. She couldn’t stop feeling guilty and embarrassed but she sure could refuse to show it.  She walked confidently towards them, letting her heels sound aloud on the horrid dark wooden floor. She began undoing the belt on her coat, letting it slide down her arms as she walked. Neither man could make eye contact with her, their eyes trailing up and down her body in her dress. It didn’t show much skin but was tight enough that it didn’t matter. Lucius’ eyes returned to her face the fastest, but she didn’t miss his nostrils flare as he took in a deep breath; or how his back straightened as he returned both hands to his cane, holding it in front of himself. Draco didn’t even bother hiding his smirk when his eyes returned to her face. He stepped forward and gestured his arm to take her coat from her arm, handing it to the older house-elf who appeared beside him.  She strode ahead into the room confidently. She smiled, knowing she had thrown them a little, feeling their gazes on her behind as she walked.

This room was less gloomy than the hall, but it still reminded her of the darker rooms of Hogwarts. In fact, it looked more like the commons chamber in the Muggle Parliament. The walls were the same embellished wood and two sofas sat facing each other in the middle of the room, almost the same shade of green as the government’s, except darker. Thick velvet curtains draped most of the windows, limiting the light that could peer through into the room. The darker colour palette somehow made the atmosphere feel heavier she thought as she chose a place on the farthest forest green chesterfield. It made her miss her Muggle apartment, which was designed to be bright and airy.

When she turned she was a little surprised that neither Malfoy had followed her into the room yet. She couldn't help but suspect they were conspiring in the hall, but then Draco entered, interrupting her thoughts. He strode towards the sofa opposite Hermione, flinging himself down. He placed his foot against his knee, before leaning back arrogantly into the sofa. He tilted his head and assessed her openly as if he was trying to figure out a riddle.

‘Firstly, Miss Granger,’ Lucius closed the heavy door of the room with a quiet click. He turned and began walking slowly towards them, ‘I would like to apologise for the…,’ he looked upwards as if he could find the word in his brain with his sight, ‘unorthodox… means of your arrival. We have had to greatly tighten our security measures in recent times,’ his smile told her that he wasn’t sorry at all. He had probably orchestrated the whole thing as some sort of scheme to frighten her into making a wrong move. She couldn’t hide her little frown at the thought.  Lucius sat on the same sofa as his son, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back confidently. She wasn’t sure if either of them were as relaxed as they looked, you could mostly never tell what was going on behind their exteriors.

She was about to ask if it had anything to do with the Ministry when he made a waving gesture with his hand and Mipsy appeared carrying a silver tea tray. She almost felt like rolling her eyes, even their teapot was made of silver. Floating behind the little elf were three silver cake stands, one filled with different sandwiches, the other with an array of scones and the final one was topped with small cakes and pastries. It was a lot of food just for the three of them. She couldn’t help but think of the wastage.

Mipsy set her tray down on the coffee table between them, clicking her fingers so the teapot began pouring tea into the three cups laid out on the saucers.  She lifted the lid from the silver sugar pot setting the tongs beside the neat white cubes. The stands floated above the coffee table, landing gently. Hermione smiled at Mipsy expecting her to leave, but Mipsy still stood looking expectantly at her. Her little eyes drifted from her to the sandwiches quickly and suddenly Hermione knew what the little elf wanted. Hermione leaned forward, putting a small amount of milk in her tea, and dropped in a single sugar cube, before carefully taking one of the sandwiches from the top of the tray, salmon. She lifted it to her saucer and brought both it and the tea to her chest. She took a bite from the sandwich and Mipsy let out a little gasp, clearly anticipating her reaction.

‘Mmm, these are wonderful, Mipsy. Thank you,’ she said enthusiastically. She wasn’t lying her sandwich was delicious, but she may have exaggerated a bit for the little elf, who now stood up straighter trying not to let her huge smile shine through her face. She gave a little bow and left the room, but Hermione noticed the little skip in her step, and she definitely noticed the little elf had left the door ajar. Clearly Mipsy didn’t know Hermione could see her little eye near the bottom of the door, peeping in.

‘Once you are a Malfoy, the wards should let you come and go as you please,’ Lucius said as he poured a small amount of milk into his tea, ‘As I’m sure you know arranged marriages are very common in our circles,’ he lifted a simple cucumber sandwich and leaned back into his seat, ‘But I am aware, Miss Granger, that you have limited experience of arranged marriages,’ he lifted his cup to his lips and took a quick sip, ‘My own marriage was arranged, and Draco was raised to expect the same,’ Draco’s knife stopped slathering jam onto his fruit scone as he stiffened. He quickly corrected himself, returning to the strawberry jam, but she had already noticed.

‘Usually, before the engagement is finalized,’ Lucius continued, ‘the parents of the betrothed participate in negotiations to draw a formal contract of engagement,’ he took another sip, ‘in our…’ he arched an eyebrow ‘…unusual situation,’ Draco scoffed raising his scone to his mouth. Lucius glared over at him through the sides of his eyes and continued voice a little firmer, ‘In our unusual situation I don’t think it would be appropriate.’

‘Or necessary since the Ministry has made the decision for us’ Draco muttered taking a bite of his scone, avoiding both of their eyes, earning himself another hard glare from his father.

She opened her mouth ready to ask him what they knew about the Ministry but he continued before she could voice anything, ‘Nevertheless, there are still details which must be seen to. To start, living quarters. You are free to choose any room in the Manor…’

‘You assume I intend to live here?’ she interrupted. Draco nearly spat out his scone, whipping his head around to watch his father’s reaction closely. Lucius tilted his head, examining her, raising his pale eyebrow, ‘Miss Granger,’ he took a hard slow blink, ‘a Lady Malfoy has never lived outside the manor,’ he said low and somewhat patronising.

She paused, pretending to consider what he had said. She smiled and leaned forward in her seat, placing her elbows on her knee, ‘Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, what about me says I will be like any of the previous Lady Malfoys to you?’ A muscle ticked in Lucius’ jaw, as he straightened his back, tilting his head to look down his nose at her. She awaited an angry retort, a clipped answer, a snarl. It never came. To her surprise the corners of his mouth upturned and he chuckled at her. Apparently, Draco was surprised too, because both of his eyebrows shot towards his hairline, then they fell back down together in confusion.

‘I suppose you won’t be, Miss Granger,’ he said smirking at her. She hated herself for thinking it, but she suddenly understood why so many Slytherin girls stared after him at school. Luckily he continued, breaking that train of thought. He lifted his cup to his mouth as he said, ‘But your living here is a rather _sensitive_ issue,’ he took a sip from his cup, never taking his grey eyes off her, ‘As I understand, at the moment you are living at the Weasley home for your own protection. You find yourself in need of a safe place to live,’ He lifted the cucumber sandwich from his saucer, ‘There’s nowhere safer for you than the Manor,’ he took a deliberate bite, smiling at her as he chewed.

She stiffened. The game had truly begun. He had made it that there were few ways she could respond without insulting him. ‘It’s merely a precaution. My apartment is perfectly safe,’ she said resolutely, taking another bite of her own sandwich.

‘It’s not,’ mumbled a voice, she looked over to the source of the noise who was in the process of finishing a sip of his tea, ‘From what I heard it was raided this morning... You can’t go back there.’

She swallowed her food, hard. She hoped he was lying, ‘How do you know that?’ she said quietly.

He stood, sounding exasperated,‘Why don’t we skip all the back and forth,’ he ran his hands down his jacket, straightening it, ‘We both know you won’t believe me until you see it for yourself, Granger.’ He walked around the coffee table to her. She was bothered by his presumption, but she couldn’t deny that he was right. He offered her his hand and she reluctantly took it as he helped her from the sofa. She set her cup and saucer on the coffee table and allowed him to move her hand into the crook of his arm as he led her to the chimney.

* * *

She didn’t even recognise her apartment.  Her sofas and armchairs were scattered throughout the room, fabric slashed open, stuffing and foam ravaged throughout the room. All her furniture had been overturned, ravaged. Clothes, glass, paper all littered the floor. All of her kitchen cupboards had been opened, their contents flung around the room. Food stains splattered up her walls and all over her kitchen island.

She stepped out slowly from her chimney, looking around the room in disbelief. A loud crinkle filled the room as her heel pierced through something on the floor. She looked down to see clumps of paper beneath her feet. She reached down and picked one up, holding the ball in her hands. She immediately looked to one of her bookshelves beside her chimney behind her and she felt tears well behind her eyes. The shelves were empty, save some carcasses.

She heard Draco step out of the chimney. She could feel how tense and uncomfortable he was. He moved past her in her peripheral, he was gripping onto his wand as he started stalking around the apartment. She barely paid attention as she desperately searched through the remains of her books, they were way beyond the use of a reparo. Her hands found one book in particular in her searching and she closed her eyes tight when she realised what it was.

‘We can buy you new ones, Granger.’ he said quietly behind her, more relaxed now, apparently content they were alone in the apartment. There was barely any point in explaining the significance of the book she held in her hand, he could never understand.

She traced her hands over the lion illustrated on the front cover, a rip now splitting his face. The gold writing above him was still clear, _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe_. Her mother had read it to her as a little girl. She had wished with everything she had she could escape to a world like Narnia. Even at a young age, she longed for the magical, taking comfort in fantasy and always finding something missing with the Muggle world. A world without magic was like a world without colour, and she had found glimpses of what she longed for in her novels. When she found out she was a witch, her fantasy books became much more to her. They were the evidence that she belonged in the magical world, even when people tried to tell her she didn’t because of her blood status. She comforted herself with the knowledge that somehow she had always known she wasn’t made for the Muggle world.

Then… during the war, it just became a reminder of her mum. She regretted now how when her mother read to her she dreamed of getting away to another world when she should have been appreciating the time she had with her mother before she was gone. She held the remains of the book to her chest. She was at least going to bring what she could of it with her.

She knew this was likely the last time she would be here and she needed to bring with her what she could. She turned and started walking towards her bedroom, hoping they hadn’t found the family photographs under her bed.

‘Hermione! Draco made to move towards her, trying to grasp her arm, ‘Don’t go down there!’

She whipped around at him, her conflicting emotions deciding upon anger.  

‘And why should I listen to you, Malfoy?’ she said a little cruelly, ‘Last time you told me not to do something I ended up being forced to marry you.’

He was going to speak but instead silenced, falling back a little.

She turned walking down her hall, ‘I’m in my own bloody home,’ she called out behind her. It wasn’t until she opened her bedroom door that she realised why Draco had asked her not to go. She stopped stock still as she looked at her bedroom wall because above her bed, in red angry lettering, something terrible was written about her. 

TRAITOROUS HYPOCRITE BITCH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...She's a traitor?   
> Please please Let me know what you think.
> 
> More coming very soon!   
> Thank you so much for reading :)
> 
> Lots of Love   
> Comfort xxx


	13. Scapegoat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, this chapter starts after the events of chapters, 'Every Damn Time' and 'You Wouldn't Marry Me'

WEDNESDAY EVENING

‘Be sure it doesn’t.’ The man whipped around, finally removing himself from Bertrand’s face. He breathed a slight sigh of relief. He wanted to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but he was afraid to attract the man’s attention again. Bertrand allowed himself to swallow, trying to still the shaking hands by his sides. His instincts screamed at him, telling him to run, but he stood paralyzed. He couldn’t afford to displease the boss, who was just staring obsessively at the desk seeing something they couldn’t.

He felt kind of sorry for Dorris. The secretary was panting with the effort it took to scrub the desk in front of her. She was desperately trying to clean something she couldn’t even see, while his boss breathed over her neck.  The woman looked as though she was about to cry, but she still just kept scrubbing. She stopped and looked up at the man nervously, asking permission to stop. He saw the boss’ back swell in his angry intake of breath. Doris jolted and grasped towards the spray bottle, almost knocking it over but catching it just before it fell. She sprayed obsessive amounts on the desk.

The room was already filled with the chemical fumes from the cleaning fluid, making his eyes sting, but with the additional onslaught, he felt like he could choke. He heard a strangled noise from his partner beside him. Hawthorn was red, and tears were streaming down his face. Bertrand braced himself for the inevitable. His partner burst, no longer able to hold back his coughs as he choked on the chemical smell of lemon gasing the room. It was almost as if it was in slow motion. The boss spun around, face almost as red as Hawthorn’s, the movement causing his usually perfectly slicked hair to fan around his head, slapping his forehead. His eyes were manic.

‘GET HIM OUT OF HERE!’ he screamed, doubling his body over as if it was painful to yell so fiercely. Doris yelped at the sound of his voice, bringing her hands to her head as if she had been struck.

Bertrand moved quickly to get in front of Hawthorn, who was still sputtering, before he ushered the man out of the door. He closed the door firmly behind him. He held onto the door handle, breathing a sigh of relief that he was out of the boss’ sight. He brought his hand to his mouth as Hawthorn’s coughing started to die down in the fresher air.

‘Bloody hell, Hawthorn. You couldn’t have held it together for another minute?’ he asked the man, who was only capable of holding up his hand in acknowledgment.

He rolled his eyes and began storming down the empty corridor. He didn’t even bother to check for the man behind him. He knew he’d be fine, and he could just about stop himself from running down the corridor. He put his face in his hands, he had really cut it close today. He ran his hands down his face. It wasn’t often he let the man down, and he hated when he did.

Not only was there something about him that sucked all the nerve out of you like a dementor, but he had got their cause the farthest of anyone. Many people were all thinking the same thing but were too divided to do something about it. His group united together people who should never agree on anything- but they all believed in him, and in the cause.

He just didn’t want to see the day when the boss decided that Bertrand was no use to that cause anymore… he couldn’t even think about it. He needed a fucking drink.

* * *

Bertrand just couldn’t believe his luck. Sitting alone at the bar next to several empty shot glasses was a mass of ginger hair that could only be Ronald Weasley.  His get out of jail free card had just landed in his lap, and he fully intended to take advantage.

He pulled out the stool next to the redhead, he smiled as genuinely as he could, despite how much he despised the man, ‘Tough day, Weasley?’  

The man in question looked up at him squinting, despite the bar’s low lighting, ‘She won’t marry me, Bertie’ he slurred, almost more to himself.

He desperately wanted to snarl. He hated that nickname almost as much as the man before him. Typical for one of the ‘golden trio’ to be so wrapped up in himself he didn’t even notice how much he despised it.

‘Hermione?’ he asked as he ordered himself a butterbeer, trying to stay as sober as he could. Weasley simply nodded, taking a deep sip of his drink.

The bartender slid his bottle on the countertop, this wasn’t even the kind of establishment that poured your beer into a glass. Perfect, none of Weasley’s little friends would find him here, which is probably exactly why he was here in the first place.

‘Listen, women are lying, manipulative users. The lot,’ he raised his beer towards him as if to toast, before taking a sip of his butterbeer, hoping he would take the bait.

‘She was supposed to be marrying me!’ he burst, bringing the hand holding his glass to his chest, gesturing to himself, spilling it down his jumper, ‘but she’s marrying them! Them!’ spilling more as he gestured out, adding to the stickiness of the bar top, almost hitting the wizard several seats down.

He had to hide his smile in a drink of beer. Everything so far was going well. ‘Who’s she marrying?’ he asked, knowing full well the answer.

‘The bloody _Malfoys_ ,’ he said, scrunching his face on mentioning the Malfoys.  

‘Is it the law?’ Bertrand asked, trying to sound clueless.

‘Well...yes,’ he set his drink back down on the bar, tapping against the glass with his finger, ‘Maybe I’m being too hard on her, you know?’ he sound kind of defeated, ‘she didn’t really have a choice did she?’ He loosened his grip on the drink putting his hands on the bar as he started to slide off the bar stool.

This was his chance, it was now or never. ‘Did she not?’ he took a sip of his butterbeer, turning his head, intentionally avoiding Ron’s eyes, knowing it would make him seem suspicious.

‘What do mean, Bertie?’ Ron said, low and dark.

‘No, No. I’m not going to say anything,’ he held his hands up in pretend surrender, ‘not my place,’ he lifted his beer taking a sip and just waited.

‘What do you know, Bertrand!’ Ron said, slowly sliding back into his stool, eyeing him in suspicion.

‘Well, it’s just...I’ve heard there were a lot of shady dealings with these marriages…not like the Malfoys not to be involved in shady dealings…’ he watched the seed plant as ginger eyebrows met together in thought. ‘Wasn’t she in Shacklebolt’s office the day the matches were announced? Did she tell you who she was matched to before then?’

Ron looked down at his drink, ‘No,’ he said quietly as he lifted it to his mouth taking a sip.

Bertrand raised his eyebrows and looked, and rolled his eyes down to the bar, scoffing.

Ron lifted his glass and shot the rest of the liquid into his mouth, lazily slapping the glass back down onto the counter.  ‘You know what?’ he said, slurring every single word, ‘You’re right. She’s too calm…,’ he gulped down a drunken burp, ‘about the whole thing!’ Ron rubbed his mouth with a rough sloppy hand, trying and failing to wipe away the excess alcohol. Bertrand could nearly cheer, the man in front of him was eating right out of his hands.

‘It’s just funny how she picked the richest bastards she could find.’ He knew the Weasleys were poor, and the Malfoys had never let them forget it. Just as he predicted his face nearly turned as red as his hair, but then he shook his head.

‘Naah, she’s not into money,’ Ron slurred.

Shit. ‘Influence then,’ Bertrand said quickly, ‘isn’t she trying to get more elf legislation through?’ he took another drink of the butterbeer, ‘...unsuccessfully.’

Ron stared hard at his drink, his snarl growing the longer he was left to think. Bertrand just let him marinate in his own anger- content the seed had been firmly planted, now he just had to wait to reap the harvest. He hit his hand on the bar counter, the bartender nodded and replaced Weasley’s drink.

Ron stared off into the distance, chasing his drink in his hand with his mouth, trying to align the two to have a drink.

‘It’s always about the elves… bout _work_ ’ Weasley looked up to the ceiling as if exasperated. ‘Thur welcome to er. Shh spends all her time workin.’ Bertrand had to avoid laughing at the man, he was completely smashed.

‘issa wonder she ain’t been _sleeping_ with them all along too!’ he scrunched up his face. Bertrand couldn’t believe his arrogance. The man was undoubtedly projecting his own guilty conscience.

Ron laughed a bitter laugh, ‘naah, she’s too interested in her precious books,’ he rolled his eyes into his head, ‘spends more time in those than under a man,’ he scoffed, nudging Bertrand in that hard shove that only drunk people weren’t aware they gave. Bertrand sneered through the sides of his eyes at the drinking Weasley. He hadn’t known the Weasley was this crude drunk, but he was getting exactly the kind of information he was looking for.

‘I heard she was a book worm but I didn’t know it was that bad...’

‘Pfft, has books I can’t even _touch_ ,’ he rose his pitch, mocking her, ‘ _Ronald you’ll rough the pages._ ’ Bingo. They must mean something to the girl, now he just needed a way to pin it on Weasley. He wrecked his brain to think of how to bring the Malfoys up again.

‘Bet she’s after their library too then. Malfoys have the most famous library of all the old houses,’

‘Trading herself for elves and a bloody library. **..** sounds bout right,’ he slurred, drinking more of the amber fire from his glass. ‘She’s a fucking traitor marrying those death eaters! ...and a hypocrite! Always pretending to be so moral. She’s just as bad as the lot of them!’ he gestured wildly spilling his drink completely over the bar.

‘Traitorous Hypocrite Bitch!’ he yelled as if she herself had made him spill it. For once he couldn’t agree with the Weasley more. His grip tightened on his beer as he thought about how he hated self-righteous Granger almost most of all, waltzing around like she’s never done anything wrong. Like she doesn’t know how many people hate her.

It was highly ironic, right now Ron was the traitorous hypocrite. The boss will be delighted with him. There was no way the girl would be so close to the Weasley’s after this. Ron had likely already said those exact words to her, and if he hadn’t, he definitely will now. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

Bertrand eyes shifted to movement towards the door of the pub, two large wizards dressed in black were approaching. One of the large wizard's hands landed on Ron’s shoulder.

‘I think it’s time for you to go home, mate.’

* * *

 The wards on the door finally caved in, and his men filed into the room like sand, dispersing throughout the apartment. Bertrand walked in leisurely after them, taking his time to look around the apartment, smiling at the devastation his men were causing. The boss would be delighted with him. 

Her apartment was small and functional so it didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. Sitting on either side of the chimney stood two bookcases, stuffed proudly with books. 

‘Bingo,’ he stalked towards them, walking through the rain of feathers and stuffing falling on his shoulders. He pointed his wand at the bookcase, and a burst of energy projected from his wand. The books were lifted out of the shelf into the air, then shredded themselves in front of him. Little pieces of paper snow stormed around him darting to the floor in a thick white sheet. He smirked in the midst of the chaos. On all sides, his men ransacked the place. 

‘Don’t take anything, just destroy,’ he yelled to his men over the noise. He looked down below him and lifted the nearest book, he turned it over in his hands, ‘The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe,’ he scoffed, ‘what a stupidly long name for a book,’ he roughly threw it into the bookshelf, turning and walking through the paper snow, which now drifted slowly to the floor. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the red spray can in his pocket, heading towards her bedroom. He flipped it in his hand, now for the finishing touch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone who said the Ministry and Ron were technically right!! 
> 
> But did the Malfoys have anything to do with it? How did they know it had happened? Some answers, some more questions. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! As usual, please please let me know what you think!! I live to read your comments.   
> What do you all think of Bertrand?! Do you think the mysterious man will be happy with what he's done? 
> 
> Comfort   
> xxx


	14. Negotiations Part One

Hermione raised her hand to her open mouth. It was when her back hit the open door that she realised she had been taking small steps backwards. Her head was racing with questions. Who could have done this? Did someone really believe that? Who had she betrayed? What had she done that made her a hypocrite? She thought she heard a voice off in the distance. No, not in the distance, behind her.

‘Hermione…’ he touched her elbow with a gentleness she didn't realise he possessed, ‘we should go…’ he said quietly.  She felt like she could break down, but Draco Malfoy was the last man she wanted to see her vulnerable. So she forced her legs through sheer will to walk towards her bed.

The floor was carpeted with white feathers from her pillows, intermittent splotches of red paint giving the impression of a mass murder of a flock of birds. She watched them move as she walked, it was almost as if she was wading through water. She reached her bare bed, her duvet was lying shredded on the top, more feathers spilling out of it onto the floor when she used her hand to steady herself on the bed as she knelt down to the floor.

She looked under the bed and breathed a sigh of relief, it hadn’t been touched. She smiled, sometimes the Muggle ways were the best. She leaned down far enough to slip her arm beneath the bed, feeling around for the usual slight edge in the wood. She pushed her fingertips against the lift, forcing a gap to form just big enough to fit her fingertips through. She slid the wooden plank to the side and reached into the insulation beneath her floorboards, she wrapped her hand around the handle and pulled it out onto the floor, dragging it closer to her.

She smiled, melancholy but relieved, when the little wooden box sat in front of her. She took a minute to run her hands along the wood, reassuring herself that the wards hadn’t been disturbed. She heard Draco shuffle by the door, interrupting her private moment of emotion. She lifted the box carefully and tucked it under her arm.

She stood up quickly, ‘‘Right,’ she said determined as she walked towards him. He moved out of her way as she approached, not that she gave him much of a choice, ‘Lets go.’

She didn’t see him look at her back in surprise at how quickly her sentimentality turned to fierceness. She also didn’t see him frown back at the devastation in her room,  and she definitely didn’t catch the look of disgust and fury he threw at the writing on the wall.

‘Scourgify’ he whispered as he watched the wall return to a clean white. He closed the door softly and followed after Hermione. 

* * *

 

When they appeared back in the Manor’s chimney, Lucius was leaned back into one of the sofas, his foot balancing on his knee as he read. The book was clearly very old judging by the worn black scaly leather that surrounded it. She had never actually seen him so...relaxed before, he always seemed so...formal and stiff. It had never even occurred to her that he _could_ relax, sometimes he almost seemed like he had put a metal rod in his spine. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about this little glance behind the formality of the elder Malfoy.

‘Miss Granger,’ her eyes returned to his face and she realised he was now looking at her. The slight upturn of his lips let her know she had been caught staring at him, ‘pleasure for you to re-join,’ Lucius snapped his book closed with one hand as they re-entered the room. ‘There is still much to discuss.’ He set the book on the end table beside him, lifted his foot off of his knee, and began to adjust himself back to his usual composure.

He was moving forward in the chair when she spoke, ‘Do you know who did that?’ she asked quickly, too violated to care about subtlety.

He stopped and looked up at her intensely, ‘No,’ he said simply. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, unconvinced he was telling the truth. He stared back at her, challenging her to contradict him. Instead, she stared back at him expectantly, taking the exact opposite reaction to what he expected of her. After a moment of silence, Lucius looked to his son behind her before clearing his throat, ‘You have more enemies than you realise.’ She smiled, pleased with herself to see he ultimately fell to the pressure to break the silence by continuing.

He lifted one leg elegantly over the other, leaned back into the chair, and he smirked. She realised at that moment exactly where Draco got his ability to pull off arrogance from.  ‘It’s not my responsibility to watch them, Miss Granger,’ sounding every bit as upper class as he was. He raised an eyebrow, ‘yet.’

Draco’s hand at her lower back encouraged her to move back towards the sofas. She flinched at the slightly intimate touch, suddenly remembering that Draco was right behind her. She felt a little sandwiched in that moment, with a Malfoy in front and behind her. In her momentary confusion, she allowed him to lead her there. She was reminded a little that these men could very well still be the enemies Lucius spoke of. Draco joined his father on the sofa, both of them watching her carefully.

‘Most of my enemies are in Azkaban’ she stated as she sat down, setting her little box by her feet, ‘As for the others…’ she placed her elbows on her closed knees and leaned closer to them, ‘I seem to be watching you right at this moment.’

Lucius narrowed his eyes and widened his smile, ‘Are we enemies, Miss Granger?’ he raised one of his pale eyebrows, ‘I seem to recall it was, in fact, Potter, Weasley and _yourself_ who defended my family in front of the Wizengamot?’ His eyes shone with delight when she straightened her back, lifting her head higher.

‘It was the right thing to do,’ she asserted, ‘that’s all I’ve ever done...What’s right, and what’s good for the wizarding world.’ She nodded her head slightly as if to reinforce the morality of her actions.

‘Granger, you are smart enough to know by now that not everyone agrees with you on what’s right, or what’s good for the Wizarding world.’

She blinked in surprise at Draco as he sat next to his father. She found she couldn’t actually argue with him. It was obvious that at least one person seriously had it out for her, or she wouldn’t be sitting about to arrange a dual marriage contract with the Malfoy’s of all people. Evidently, something she had done made her worthy of the titles of traitor, hypocrite _and_ bitch all in one go.

She took a second to remember the mess that was the Death Eater trials at the end of the war. They had convinced themselves that everything they did was all for the greater good. It unnerved her how easily these people had been radicalised into believing there was any way to justify the evil they had polluted into the world. She felt glad that almost all of them had been punished harshly regardless of intent. It wasn’t them she needed to worry about, it was whatever was going on in the Ministry.

‘Are these enemies the reason why you stopped me from going to see Kingsley?’ she observed Draco closely for even the most remote sign he was lying.

He stiffened slightly, glancing over quickly at his Father, ‘Yes,’ he sighed as he looked to his hand on the arm of the sofa which was lightly poking at the leather, ‘It was an ambush...They were waiting to catch you and Potter threatening the Minister, and both of you would have been very publically escourted from the Ministry. Probably deemed unstable and fired.’

‘They are after Harry too?’ she said quietly, suddenly this whole thing seemed a lot bigger than she had thought. She worried for Harry. He had already been through so much. She couldn’t help her face hardening, ‘Who are they?’ she demanded.

‘We can’t tell you,’ Lucius interjected before Draco could speak, giving his son a warning look. Draco shuffled a little in the seat, staring a little harshly at the side of his father’s face.

She raised her eyebrows and gave them an incredulous look, ‘So you expect me to just trust you... when you won’t even tell me who these people are?’ her eyebrows gradually fell into a frown as she continued, ‘or what they want with me? Or with my friends?’

‘They want you to suffer,’ Draco said quickly, ‘ All of you.’ He looked to his father when he continued, ‘...and us.’

‘They’re after you too?’ she paused for a minute in the silence, staring off into the distance.

‘No,’ she shook her head in disbelief. ‘No, This doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Your pairing with us was no coincidence, Miss Granger,’ Lucius finally interjected, looking across the room towards the window, ‘what better way to punish _us all_ than force us to marry each other,’ he said bitterly.

‘We’re being punished? What for? I haven’t done anything wrong!’ she burst, regretting it almost instantly as both Malfoy’s stared at her in silence. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her frustration.    

‘Why can’t you just tell me? Especially if this affects us all,’ she said quieter. The silence remained, however, as both men just watched her.

She knew Draco was probably her best bet, ‘Draco, you told me you’d explain.’

‘I’ve told you all I can,’ he said quietly. They simply stared at her in silence, their steel gazes making her feel shifty, she leaned back into her seat, crossing her legs.

She threw her head upwards and closed her eyes in exasperation, ‘If you can’t trust me, why even bother helping?’ She looked up to the ceiling, following the elegant flowing lines of the Victorian style ceiling rose surrounding the chandelier of the room. She huffed out a breath, ‘Why didn’t you just leave Harry and me to be arrested that day?’

‘Whether we like it or not our fates are entwined, Miss Granger,’ at the sound of Lucius’ voice she snapped her head back to look at the men. Draco’s eyes were assessing her, while Lucius looked a little like the cat that got the cream. He was probably delighted they had succeeded in frustrating her. ‘After all, the enemy of my enemy…’ he rolled his hand in a ‘and so forth’ gesture.

‘After the wedding,’ Draco interjected, ‘We’ll tell you all then...I promise.’ It was one of those few moments when he genuinely seemed sincere. Judging by the frown Lucius sent his direction it was something he wasn’t supposed to say, which made her believe he probably was telling the truth.

‘Speaking of the wedding,’ Lucius interjected, standing up from the sofa, ‘There is still much to be finalised on that front. I suggest we start with the living arrangements…’

‘You can’t just leave it like that...’ she moved to the edge of her seat, ‘You can’t tell me all my friends are in danger and just move on!’ she gestured outward with her right hand.

Lucius suddenly spun from his position at the window, _‘Your_ enemies are not _my_ responsibility,’ he snapped.

She refused to flinch at the commanding tone of his voice. She stared up at him fiercely before breaking the silence. ‘They’re your enemies too,’ she said quietly, in defiance.

‘And I assure you, I am very much aware of them, Miss Granger.’ she frowned at the condescending tone of his voice.

‘Father,’ Draco threatened from across from her. She turned her head to look at him, surprised to see Draco openly challenge his father. He stared back at Lucius, refusing to back down to his scrutiny.

Mr Malfoy took a deep breath and walked back towards the sofas. The only noise in the room was the steady rhythm of his shoes on the floor. She thought he would go back to sit next to Draco, where he had been sitting before, but to her surprise, he looked like he was heading toward her. She stiffened her spine and schooled her face into a blank emotionless expression as he approached.

He walked past her sofa behind her. She couldn’t see it, but she could hear the rings on his fingers hitting off the dips in the leather as he trailed his hand along the chesterfield sofa at her back, the sound making her very conscious of his commanding presence behind her. She sat in silence, raising her head as though she wasn't threatened by him.  

‘If we are to be successful in keeping the dogs from the door…’ his aristocratic voice pierced the silence, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She tried to stamp on the urge to flinch as he came back into her peripheral vision. She turned her head and watched him begin to sit beside her. Brown eyes met liquid silver, ‘then we will have to work together.’

There was something in his eyes when he was this close to her that rooted her to the spot. She refused to look away, but the more she met his eyes the more she felt almost like they were sharing something intimate in their gaze. As much as she tried to hide it, it intimidated her.

Luckily he broke the silence relaxing some of the tension, ‘But as my son said, trust has to be earned..’ he lifted one of his legs across the other, angling his body towards her, ‘that goes both ways. We’ll trust you when you are a Malfoy, Miss Granger. No sooner.’ The almost imperceptible shake of his head, as well as his tone, made it clear it was final. There was no point carrying on the argument, they clearly weren’t going to tell her anything more for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise for my lack of updating this story as much as I wanted to!  
> I've been suffering from the flu this week, (still am) on top of this chapter just being a nightmare to write. Took me about 7X the usual time it takes me to get a chapter out, ended up splitting it into two parts too!  
> The second part should be going up this weekend when I've finished prodding at it! haha. It will largely be around the actual marriage negotiations. 
> 
> I'm busting to know what you're thinking about this chapter! Please let me know all your thoughts and opinions. How do you think they each handled it? Did any of the characters surprise you in how they acted? 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!! 
> 
> Love,  
> Comfort  
> xxx


	15. Negotiations Part Two

‘Now,’ Lucius said once her silence ensured her compliance, ‘speaking of becoming a Malfoy,’ he held out his hand where a thick stack of papers winked into existence. She blinked hard in surprise, it must have been a house elf magic that had transported it to him. He set it between them on the low table in front of her. 

_ Marriage Contract and Agreements. _

_ The enclosed contracts and agreements have been agreed on this day, _____________  between and by Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Draco Lucius Malfoy, and Hermione Jean Granger. _

She swallowed, it all suddenly seemed quite real. She had to fight the urge not to panic. Draco looked about as unsure as she did. In fact, he looked like he was trying to stop the bile rising up his throat. At least he wasn’t enjoying this either. 

‘I am aware that you are quite  _ unfamiliar _ with traditional Pureblood customs so allow me to explain.’ She noted that he said Pureblood much quieter and less proud than he would have before...

He leaned forward in his seat and placed his fingertips on top of the huge stack of parchment. She was relieved the offending text was mostly hidden behind his fingers, ‘This is a magical document, it will update as we agree. It will not change without all three in agreement. What we decide on today is not final until it has been signed at the marriage ceremony,’ she had to listen carefully to keep up with his pace, ‘You will receive a copy to take with you today, examine it thoroughly and suggest any amendments tomorrow.’ He rhymed it off as though he had explained it a thousand times before. It might as well have been the, ‘you have the right to remain silent…’ speech going by how trapped she felt. She focused on the sound of her breathing as she tried to settle her heart rate. At least nothing needed to be finalised today, she consoled herself.  

‘Do you understand?’ he asked. 

‘Yes,’ answer short trying to keep the anxiety from her voice. 

‘Excellent,’ he removed his hand from the contracts and clicked his fingers once, ‘Then we shall begin.’ 

‘Mipsy!’ he called. The door opened to reveal the little elf. She tottered over to the table, bowing when she stood beside Lucius, ‘Master?’ she said. ‘Clear the table for us Mispy.’ Hermione noticed the tiny girl’s oversized eyes kept drifting to her even as Lucius commanded her. She raised her hand, with a click of her petite fingers, the silver stands hovered and followed her as she made to exit the room. 

‘Thank you,’ Hermione said to the elf’s back. She froze, almost getting hit in the back by the silverware set following her. She turned slowly, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in shock. Hermione smiled back at her, trying to convey a warmth the girl had probably never felt. 

‘Go on now, Mipsy,’ Lucius instructed from behind her. 

Hermione looked at him through the sides of her eyes as Mipsy left the room. Her little feet slapping on the floor as she passed through the door, followed by the remains of their tea.  Both Draco and Lucius were looking at her like she had just turned Ravenclaw blue. Hermione ignored them and instead focused on the contract in front of her. 

Draco cleared his throat, ‘well then.’ It was one of the few times where he actually sounded uncomfortable. 

Lucius unsheathed his wand from the cane beside him and waved it over the table, whispering something she couldn’t quite hear. The mountain of parchment split into three distinct batches, one levitating to each of them, before lowering down elegantly on the table. 

She loosened her shoulders and let a sigh breathe through her lips as she found the task was a little less daunting with the contract a third of the size. Her sigh sounded wrong, too loud to be hers. She looked up to see Draco had done the same thing. He looked down to the table shyly then smiled back up at her cheekily. She couldn't help but return it with a subtle huff of laughter from her nose. They both knew exactly what the other was thinking in that moment, and it was really kind of funny. 

‘Ahem,’ came a dramatised throat clearing beside her.

She flinched as the connection was ripped from her, suddenly remembering who and where she was. She couldn’t have just had a... _ moment  _ with Malfoy of all people. She shook her head, wondering how on earth that had happened. Evidently, he was thinking the same, because he had lifted the first page of his copy of the contract, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

‘The Ministry has arranged a ceremony on Saturday.  It will likely be an unglamourous affair, in that we have no choice. But it goes against my breeding not to offer a separate ceremony of your own designs. If that is what you want?’

She looked down to her fidgeting hands, ‘I appreciate the offer, but that won’t be necessary.’ She had never been the kind of girl to gush about her wedding anyway, even if she did get to pick the groom. Besides, what was the point in pretending this marriage was anything else but an arranged marriage between ex-enemies. The tension Draco’s shoulders dropped a little, evidently, he didn’t want a spectacle of a ceremony either.

All three contracts suddenly flipped open, the pages quickly ruffling through. She couldn’t deny her curiosity as she leaned closer to examine the magic. She closed her eyes inhaling deeply, the familiar smell of parchment soothing something inside her. She opened her eyes to see passages of the contract’s writing fading into nothingness, only to be rewritten almost as if by a ghost.

‘Excellent,’ he slid his wand back into his cane with a snap, ‘I trust that you have had a little time to consider your living arrangements...Will you be joining us at the manor?’

She rubbed her ring finger as she contemplated. She knew there was no real way to avoid this. Her apartment was shot and there was no way she could stay at the Weasley’s forever, not with Ron so angry at her. It wouldn’t be right encroaching upon Harry and Ginny either. She could always find another apartment but would it be safe there after what had happened to hers? Ultimately what would she really be trying to achieve by living separately? It wouldn’t change the fact that she was married to the Malfoys. She looked to the door where Mipsy had left, perhaps she could do some good from here. 

Lucius leaned his cane carefully beside him, ‘I understand how it might be daunting for you given your...history here,’ Draco winced across from her,  ‘But the manor will be as much yours as it is ours. It is the safest place for a Malfoy to be.’ 

She didn’t exactly have  _ safe _ in mind when she thought of Malfoy Manor. She looked towards the doors, remembering that somewhere in this very place she was tortured by a madwoman. Safe wasn’t exactly the word she’d use. She had to blink hard to block out the sound of Bellatrix’s laughter bouncing around her head. 

‘No one will hurt you here,’ she made eye contact with Draco, his grey eyes looked almost as shallow as they did that day, and she knew he was reliving the same experience she was.

‘As lady of the house, you can change and decorate the Manor as you please...with the exception of Draco and I’s personal quarters.’ She looked down to her hands in her lap, the first thing to go will be that drawing room.

‘You may pick your own quarters, and go wherever you please,’ he became quieter when he next spoke, looking down to his lap, ‘Frankly, I think both Draco and I would appreciate some change to put the past behind us.’   

‘I won’t even entertain the thought of living here until your elves are free,’ she rose her eyes to meet his, determined and stubborn. 

‘Agreed,’ Draco spoke up for the first time since marriage was brought up. Both Lucius and Hermione looked at him in surprise. He was leaning forward, arms crossed leaning on his knees as he looked down at the contract. He lifted his head and made eye contact with his father, something unspoken passed between the two men.

‘Of course,’ Lucius finally confirmed, ‘Do you agree to live in the manor, provided that once you do, you have the authority to free any of the elves?’ 

‘All of the elves,’ she insisted, ensuring that he wouldn’t get the advantage over her in the future through his choice of words now. Draco was staring down at the contract again, but he was (badly) trying to hide his smile. 

The left side of Lucius’s lips rose slyly, ‘All the elves,’ he slightly lowered his head as he spoke, the arch of his eyebrow lifting. It looked as though he was trying to say ‘I underestimated you’ but Hermione couldn’t assume she knew anything of what this man was thinking. 

‘Then yes. I agree to live in the manor under the agreed arrangements,’ she said stiffly. 

‘Lovely,’ he drawled, pleased with his victory. The contracts sprung to life again, pages flying so fast that Lucius’ long white hair twitched. She looked at him through the sides of her eyes as he watched the contracts work, It was a shame he was who he was because he was actually quite striking as a man. She immediately looked away from him as soon as the thought came to mind, leaning closer to the artificial breeze in the hope her cheeks might stop blushing. She chose to blame the old magic bristling through the air from the contracts.

‘What’s next?’ She decided to move the discussion forward when the contracts stilled, idly flicking through the pages. 

Lucius straightened his back, ready, ‘related to the Manor is the issue of possession and property. Recently divorced myself I find I am rather…,’ he looked towards the ceiling before tilting his head downwards slightly, re-establishing eye contact,  ‘ _ weary _ of the whole process,’ he paused, ‘I’ve made the disentangling of lives easier in the  _ likely _ event of divorce.’ She couldn’t help the twitch in her eye at the way he said likely. None of them actually wanted to be engaged but referencing it only bothered her. She focused on the pages in front of her as she bit her lip. 

‘Now, in the contracts, you will find what my solicitor refers to as a…’

‘Prenuptial agreement,’ she finished for him, ‘They are Muggle,’ her pitch rose in the final word showing her confusion.  She pulled the first page of the prenup from the pack, while her eyebrows met. The thought of the Malfoys using anything from the Muggle world seemed strange to her. 

‘Yes…’ he drawled, ‘and entirely appropriate for our  _ special  _ circumstances. You’ll see it outlines what you keep as yours. You’ll keep your own bank account throughout the marriage,’ he held his hand up spinning it as if to encourage the speed of his own words, ‘with the money you earn from your own employment and your allowance excetera excetera,’ he rushed out the last of his sentence so fast she nearly got aural whiplash, ‘Furthermore…’

‘Wait wait wait,’ she held her hand up signalling him to stop, ‘my allowance?’ He thought he could just skip that past her?

He pushed out a quick breath. ‘Yes, allowance,’ Draco sunk even further into his seat, crossing his arms. He shot a triumphant smirk at his father, and it made her wonder why he was so pleased with himself.

‘The details of that particular arrangement are later in the contracts. Now,’ he said firmly, trying to regain control of the conversation, ‘about the prenuptial agreement…’ 

‘No.’ 

A snicker came from Draco’s direction. She looked over to see him looking off to the right, desperately avoiding eye contact. She could see behind the fist he had tried to cover his mouth with that he was smiling, trying to contain his laughter. She didn’t like being out of the joke. She felt lines form on her forehead above her nose like train tracks as she threw a disapproving look his direction

‘Excuse me?’ Lucius asked, pursing his lips slightly. 

She turned her body and faced Lucius head on, straightening her neck, ‘I don’t want your money.’ 

‘Miss Granger, this is non-negotiable’ he slowed his voice to a crawl, barely even blinking as he stared her down. 

‘Actually,’ she pushed herself forward in her seat and tilted towards him, ‘it’s non-negotiable with me, Mr Malfoy,’ She crossed her arms straight across her lap and fixed him with a cold hard stare. She looked into the eyes of the snake, and turned her body to stone. The fire of her gaze clashed with his icy glare, sending sparks of tension through the air. It may have only been seconds that she looked into the molten silver of his narrowing eyes, but it felt like hours. 

‘A separate account will be set up in your name, Granger,’ Draco crossed his arms, leaning back into the sofa, but she wouldn’t take her eyes off the man in front of her, ‘If you don’t want the money just let it sit there. Put it to one of your  _ saving the world _ causes,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘Might be money well spent if it pulls the Malfoy name out of the gutter,’ he chuffed, looking away dismissively. 

She considered his proposal. It actually worked in both their favour. She kept her eye contact, but raised her eyebrow in a question to Lucius. 

‘Fine,’ he gritted out between his teeth, ‘but know you are always to come to us first for any funding you require.’ 

She nodded in his direction, keeping her smile inward, she’d come to them, but she wouldn’t have to actually accept anything they handed her.  She could see the words on the prenup switch and change in the corner of her eye. 

‘The rest of the prenuptial agreement should be agreeable to you. I suggest you read it over tonight, it’s fairly standard, but time consuming. The next point on the agenda is children.’ 

She actually felt Draco’s shudder from across the room, she supposed it could well have been hers too. She avoided eye contact with both of them, and stared down at the marriage contract with intense focus. The topic of children just reminded her of what she’d have to do with them to conceive them and she could feel her body start to blush, no matter how much her mind screamed at it not to. 

‘I will not labour the point, any children conceived of this marriage will be to Draco. I do not want to make this any more complicated than it already is. Do you agree, Miss Granger?’ 

‘Yes,’ was all she could say. She could feel Draco’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off her own lap. It felt a strangely intimate thing to acknowledge that they would have to have at least one child together. Her heart gave a solitary punch to her chest when she thought about how in six months time she would likely be pregnant if the Ministry get their way.  

‘What’s the next item?’ Hermione blurted out, anything to stop the thoughts currently running through her head. 

Lucius seemed just as eager as she was to change the topic because he breathed deeply letting his shoulders relax a little. ‘Appearances,’ he blurted out quickly, ‘Draco and I are very  _ conscious _ of our public image. Repairing the damage to the Malfoy name is proving rather  _ difficult _ ...We’d rather if we kept the details of our marriage  _ discreet _ ,’ he leaned back into his seat, throwing one leg over the other, ‘Amongst the documents you’ll find a confidentiality agreement.’ 

She was just about to probe further when he held up his hand to stop her, ‘read it before you object, Miss Granger,’ she pursed her lips, unhappy she was interrupted in such a way. Draco’s hand was holding his forehead, elbow propped up against the sofa arm. 

‘It is there to protect you as much as it is us, and we are bound to it also. It prevents us  _ all  _ from sharing certain information.  _ Particularly _ to those troublesome papers. You may name individuals you’d like to be exceptions, your closest friends and confidants, and provided we approve of them, you can discuss freely with them. They will also, however, need to sign the confidentiality agreement and are subject to the same rules you are,’ he lowered his hand to the sofa’s arm, ‘Does this sound agreeable to you?’ 

She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t particularly argue with them either. 

‘It will allow us to tell you more,’ Draco said quietly from his place across from her, hands now joined in front of him. 

‘Fine,’ she gritted out. 

‘Speaking of… the contract also contains a fidelity clause. It is largely related to... _ romantic _ activity, but it also ensures your faith to the Malfoy name and family. You will not be able to act against us... but similarly we will be unable to act against you.’

‘We need that before we can trust you,’ Draco looked at her sincerely. 

‘Why do you need all these security measures?’ she said quietly addressing it largely to Draco. 

‘Those are actually standard for a Malfoy wedding. Usually, they’re written into the bonding ceremony but the Ministry are insisting on their own,’ he rolled his eyes bitterly.  

‘The Malfoy family has always prided itself on its...unity. But they are in your own interests as well, Miss Granger. Judging by how events have unfolded thus far...you will need our assistance.’ She pursed her lips and ran her tongue along the front of her teeth, giving it something to do other than snap back at him. 

He smiled, seeming to enjoy provoking a reaction from her, ‘We shall have to work together. Closely.’ 

‘Are we finished?’ she blurted. 

‘Almost,’ he leaned back, still smirking, ‘Do you agree to the current terms discussed this afternoon?’ 

She gritted her teeth, ‘Yes,’ ignoring the breeze as the contracts closed in a flutter of pages. 

He stood from his seat and used one large but elegant hand to pull his robes closed, while the other collected his cane that had leaned against the side of his seat. He was almost a caricature of himself as he stood lofty and proud. Draco was flicking through his contract when he stood.  

Lucius gestured his hand towards Hermione, waiting expectantly for her to take it. She looked between his face and his hand for a moment, before shyly lifting her hand and placing it in his. It looked small and elegant sitting in his larger palm. It made her feel...female, a feeling she was unfamiliar with. Harry and Ron treated her like she was genderless for most of her teenage years. They hadn’t done a great job of making her feel feminine after that either. As she joined him standing, he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. 

‘For once, Miss Granger, we’ll be contractually obliged  _ not _ to be enemies,’ he scoffed out a laugh, and began to slowly lead her back towards the hall. She glanced behind her shoulder for her contract but Draco was currently placing it atop his own. 

. They walked back to the door in silence as she tried to figure this man out. Walking along arm in arm with him, she was reminded of how kind he had seemed when they last walked like this. But today he was occasionally quite cold. She was used to him being harsh towards her, but the intermittent moments of warmth were sending her head into a tailspin. He was a difficult man to understand.  

‘In fact,’ she flinched a little when he broke the silence, as if he could hear the gears in her mind processing. A subtle twitch on the left side of his mouth told her he found the thought that had just occurred to him highly amusing, ‘we will be contractually obliged to be  _ family _ ,’ he drawled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two!   
> Closer and Closer to the Wedding day...
> 
> As usual, please comment and tell me how you found it (theories, opinions, hopes) everything! I love to hear it and ultimately it makes my writing better, and makes me much more excited to get new chapters out ;) Rocket fuel. 
> 
> Truly deeply thank you for supporting this story by reading this far. 
> 
> Love Comfort   
> xxx


	16. How Dare You

Lucius stared curiously after the car carrying the Granger girl from his property. She was a perplexing woman indeed. She was right about one thing, there was little about her that was like any of the Malfoy women before her. They could burn you with ice, but she was a wildfire, barely contained in her petite frame.

He had to admit he had underestimated the girl before. He was surprised she was willing to work with them at all, he rather thought she would run off and try to solve the world’s problems with just her books and Potter to wield as a weapon, much like she had done before. He narrowed his eyes at the black dot disappearing down their lane, they would certainly have their hands full with her. 

If she could even be truly trusted, he was not as naive as his son, one bat of her pretty smile and Draco would have told her everything. In these times it was difficult to know who to trust. The way he saw it there were two possibilities, either she was as clueless as she seemed, or she knew a lot more than she pretended to. It seemed unlikely that such an intelligent witch wouldn’t figure out what was happening here, but at the same time, she wasn’t the Slytherin type of woman he was used to. She was fierce, brave in a loud and unrelenting way, not in a quiet cunning way like his ex-wife. She would need to learn how to do both if they were all going to make it out of this. 

‘I believe you owe me twenty galleons, father,’ his son ripped him from his thoughts. He could feel his victory grin radiating off Draco from beside him. 

Lucius focused his eyes in front of him as he sucked air into his lungs through his nostrils. He slowly turned his gaze towards his son, and just stood blinking at him dryly. Draco was leaning against one of the white pillars, trying his best to stare after the car, but the smirk pulling at his face was persistent. 

Lucius rolled his eyes, depositing a heavy coin purse into Draco’s open palm. ‘I tried to tell you she wouldn’t take the allowance without a fight.’ he said as he shoved the coin purse into his own pocket. Lucius just turned his back on the car, making his way back into the manor. 

‘She’s not like most other women you’d know, father,’ his son said from behind him, the sincerity in his voice stopping Lucius’ feet from moving. He looked over his shoulder at his son’s silhouette, his hands now planted in his pocket as he stared after the girl. He sounded almost like he admired her. Lucius lifted his eyebrow, this girl could really prove to be a problem for him. 

‘No,’ he said, turning back around and striding back into the manor, ‘she’s not,’ he said, leaving his son staring after the car as it disappeared down the old carriage lane. 

* * *

 

Hermione clutched her marriage contract against her chest as the car pulled down the rough driveway towards the Weasley’s home. The Burrow sat like a beacon at the end of the darkness, a single warm ember in the midst of the dying autumn fire. 

She placed her forehead against the car window,  feeling the late autumn cold seeping through as she watched the raindrops trickle down, joining with each other on their journey to form bigger droplets. Out of her focus stood the light coming from the disheveled shack fast approaching her. She blinked, focusing instead on the light coming from the Weasley’s kitchen. In her head she pictured them all gathered around the table, noisily laughing and fighting over the potatoes, while Molly desperately tried to keep order. She smiled at the thought, but found her face too tired to hold the position for long. 

She closed her eyes and let the light shining from the Burrow’s windows caress over her face as the car halted to a stop outside the house. She pulled her head from the window and gathered the papers even closer to her chest. She stared at the door handle, unsure if she was supposed to open it herself, but just before she reached her hand out it popped open with a click and slowly peeled itself open. 

Hermione was immediately hit with a swoosh of cold wind across her features as she lifted her legs out of the car. She shivered a little under the droplets of rain coating her bare legs. She pulled her coat around her neck with one hand, clutching her marriage contract tight, as she rushed towards the front door, rapping it urgently. 

She shifted her weight from foot to foot while she waited on the door in front of her to open. A rumble of stones underneath tyres made her look back to the Malfoy’s car, now retreating back to where it came from. She couldn’t believe they sent that thing to get her, but she smiled down at her feet at the memory of screaming her way through the hole in the wall. They had to have known it would do that, it was probably the closest the Malfoy’s would get to a practical joke. She laughed a little to her feet and jolted upright when the door suddenly bolted open. 

‘Come in, come in,’ Mrs Weasley fussed, ‘quickly, dear, quickly!’ she shouted as she hurried Hermione into the house, closing the door firmly behind her.

Hermione set her papers down on the wooden table, shaking the stray hairs out of her face as she untied her coat. When she looked around the room she noticed Ron staring seemingly into space on the tattered old armchair in the living room, jaw tense and fingers digging into the worn leather armrests. She frowned at his immaturity, sitting over there ignoring her like a child. 

‘You need to get those wet clothes off you, dear! You’ll catch your death!’ Mrs Weasley pulled her out of her examination of him, tugging at the lapel of her coat, pulling it from her shoulders. 

‘Really it’s fine, Mrs Weasley,’ she laughed, ‘I was only in the rain for…’

‘Molly dear!’ the older woman replied, with a tone of finality. Hermione sighed, she was too tired to fight the woman, she was only being kind anyway. She let her pull her coat off her arms. 

 ‘I’ll get you some tea!’ Molly said as she scurried off towards the kitchen, taking her coat with her. Hermione smiled after the woman, she really was sweet at heart.  

As soon as his mother busied herself Ron leapt from his seat, striding towards her. Hermione’s head swung around to the movement, just in time to see him stop just before the stairs. His eyes travelled from her head to her toes, and suddenly she felt a little self-conscious of her bold outfit decision earlier in the day, her red dress seeming out of place here. 

She grabbed the inside of her elbow with her right hand but tried to hold her chin high, failing to project a confidence she didn’t have the energy to feel. He finished his assessment of her and pursed his lips in disgust before storming up the stairs, taking them two at a time with his long legs. He hadn’t needed to speak to tell her what he was thinking, ‘so you’re dressing up for them now?’  She closed her eyes in exasperation, she really was fed up with him. She felt completely drained from her travel, and with dealing with the snakes at Malfoy Manor, and she had absolutely zero energy left for Ron. She was just tired in general. This past week had hit her like the Hogwarts express, and it showed no signs of stopping. 

Molly reappeared with her tea, handing the warm and comforting cup into her hand. Hermione looked at Mrs Weasley, eyes half-drawn in exhaustion. The matriarch merely looked at her sympathetically, rubbing her upper arms gently, ‘Get some sleep, love’ 

Hermione smiled back gently at her, trying to show her gratitude. She lifted her contract and shuffled her heels off her feet, lining them up with the other shoes by the side of the stairs. Usually she always put her shoes away but she figured if she didn’t get upstairs soon she would collapse. 

She padded up the first few steps in her bare feet, and yawned uncontrollably, tired of everything. All she wanted to do was curl up with Crookshanks and fall asleep. Just make the world stop for once. She could finish reading through the marriage contract tomorrow. 

Hermione closed her eyes, she only had one day to get through this marriage contract too, because as much as she might wish it, time wouldn’t stop for her. She was getting bloody  _ married _ the next day. It wasn’t the first time since she left Hogwarts that she didn’t wish she could have kept that time turner. 

* * *

Hermione woke with a gripping fear clutching at her stomach. She bolted upright, and pushed her curls out of her face, as the cursed thought shot itself through her brain, she was getting married today. 

The endless papers of her marriage contract lay over her bed, some spilling out onto the floor where she had turned in her sleep. She looked to the clock on her bedside, and audibly groaned, rubbing her temples. She had stayed up into the early hours of the morning reading through the countless stipulations and conditions of her marriage. And now she had slept well into the afternoon. In about six hours she would be standing at the altar. She rubbed her face in her hands and tried to force the nausea creeping up her throat back into her stomach. 

She locked herself in her room from Thursday night, only nipping down into the kitchen for food when she knew no one was downstairs. She just needed to be on her own for a while, and this contract wasn’t going to read itself. She had read and read the same parts over and over again, sure that the Malfoy’s would sneak something in there somewhere. But so far, there was nothing unreasonable in the documents, the main points of contention were covered in their negotiations. Honestly, most of the document was comprised of technical legal jargon that took three pages to say what she could in a sentence. 

She reached for her wand on her bedside, and with a swift wave the papers floated up into the air. Ironically, she nearly felt like she was inside a glass of champagne as the papers drifted up past her head like bubbles towards the ceiling, before they gathered in a neat pile on the desk across the room. She pulled the covers off her legs and stretched her back out. Her spine cracking in protest at her sitting upright in bed reading through the night. 

She walked to her suitcase, transfigured into a temporary wardrobe, as she pulled her pyjama top over her head. She opened the doors and pulled out a sports bra, pulling it down over her chest. She adjusted her breasts in it, flattening them to her chest. She just needed to be outside, she had spent all of Friday cooped up inside like a prisoner, and she just wanted to be as far away from that marriage contract as she could get. She pulled a warm fleece around her body, delighting in how quickly it matched her body temperature, locking the heat in. She threw on her leggings, and lifted socks from the makeshift drawers. She fell onto the bed behind her as she pulled them over her feet. 

The window sat directly in front of her, revealing the miserable grey weather. It was obvious it had rained through most of the night, the Weasley’s gravel pathways were soaked to a dark granite colour, and the uneven grass was littered with muddy puddles. She frowned as she slipped her trainers over her feet, ‘you’re going,’ she said aloud to herself, forcing herself off of the bed and out of the bedroom door.

As she trotted down the stairs she heard harsh mumbling from the kitchen,She recognised Ginny’s voice and she slowed to a stop, listening half-way down the winding staircase, ‘She can’t just hide up there, mum. We need to do something!’ 

‘She’ll come down when she’s ready, Ginny dear,’ Molly’s gentle voice was tinged with concern. Hermione looked down to her feet, maybe she had been selfish the day before, her friends were clearly worried about her. 

‘But…’

‘Ginny,’ Mrs Weasley warned, firmer this time, ‘Let her process this her own way,’ she heard the clanging of pots against each other in the sink, ‘it’s her having to marry them after all.’ 

A loud and unashamed ‘Pffft’ interrupted their conversation. 

‘Now, Ronald!’ Molly chastised. 

Hermione clenched her fists at her side, she honestly couldn’t even explain why this particular thing infuriated her so much, she was just so sick of him. She slammed her feet down the remaining stairs. All three Weasley’s looked terrified when she stormed through the room to the kitchen door. Ginny's head shot away from the hand that was cradling her face, and Molly stood completely speechless, mouth agape as she struggled to find something to say. 

Ron had the exact same expression he had on the front page of the Prophet the day all this had started, and the rage bubbled up through her mouth, ‘Go and  _ fuck _ yourself, Ronald Weasley!’ she spat as opened the door, slamming it shut behind her. 

As soon as she was outside she took a deep breath, watching her breath turn to vapour in the cold November air. Her body made the decision for her. She just started to run, the gravel and stones spitting at her legs. She didn’t get far when she heard the door open and slam again. 

‘How  _ dare _ you!’ Ron screamed after her. 

She stopped dead in her tracks and whipped around to face him as he jogged up to her. 

‘How  _ dare _ you speak to me like that in my own home? In front of my  _ mother _ ?’ he spat, 

‘How dare I?!’ she screamed back at him, pointing her hand at her chest, ‘How dare  _ you _ , Ronald!’ she stormed back towards him, ‘Ever since I’ve come here you’ve done nothing but treat me like the enemy,’ the sight of Ron pushing his lips together spitefully was only rising her anger, ‘Like I’m the bad guy here!’ 

‘Oh so you’re not, are you?’ spite dripping from his voice, ‘You didn’t see Shacklebolt the day you were paired with the Malfoys? Convenient that isn’t it,’ he nodded his head bitterly, ‘You see the Minister of Magic on the same day you get paired to not just one, but two of my worst enemies? I get it, you’re trying to punish me but…’ 

‘Oh my God, Ron. Why does  _ everything _ have to be about you?!’ she burst, clenching her hands into claws of frustration in front of her, wishing it was the man’s neck she was gripping, ‘How many times can I say it? I. Had. No. Choice. Do you need me to tattoo it on my forehead for you?’ 

‘I just think it’s a little too convenient that you had nothing to do with it. You saw him  _ that day _ ,’ 

‘To  _ complain _ , Ronald! I got suspended for it, or is that all part of my  _ elaborate _ plan to ruin your life?’ the sarcasm in her voice was deafening. 

‘You can joke about it but I know what you’re at! You’re ruining our lives because of the thing with Lavender!’  

‘Stop blaming everything on everyone else, Ron!’ she unclenched her hands, placing them firmly on her hips, as she walked towards him. She leaned in and shoved her face aggressively into his, ‘I’m not the one who ruined his life for a cheap  _ fuck _ ,’ she spat, as she turned and ran away from him, dismissing him entirely. 

‘It’s still my house!’ he shouted pathetically after her, desperately clinging on to some part of the argument he could win. 

‘And I’ll be out of it by sundown!’ 

She didn’t even bother to turn back or listen to his reply. She just focused on the feeling of her feet pounding into the grass, as his voice got farther and farther into the distance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY 
> 
> I have updated this storyyy. We are officially off hiatus now. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought, I'm mainly re-familiarizing ourselves in this chapter... next chapter will be the much anticipated (mostly by me) wedding! And I'm not giving any clues away :P You'll be happy to know I've already started writing it! 
> 
> As usual, please let me know what you think! I love to hear from you, good or bad. I look forward to seeing you in the comments! 
> 
> Thank you for being so patient with me, I know you've been waiting a while for this <3 
> 
> Lots of Love,   
> Comfort   
> xxx


	17. The Wedding

She slapped her hands against the hard cobblestone of the Burrow just to stop herself from collapsing.  Deep in the pit of her lungs sat a cloud of ice freezing its way through her chest. The November air left her lungs in gusts of smoke, while her heart thumped in her ears. She leaned harder into the wall, stretching her leg out behind her as she panted. Her legs shook below her, and she had to fight the urge not to heave. 

She pushed it too far. Her arms shook violently and she knew she didn’t have long. She spun and smacked her back up against the wall, straightening her legs to prop her up against the wall. She closed her eyes, only letting two tears fall from each one as she gasped for breath. She put her hands onto her knees as she coughed up the cold air, forcing her nausea steady out of sheer will. 

She didn’t know how long she stood like that, but when her breaths evened out she wiped her fleece arm across her brow, cleaning the sweat gathered there. Her entire body felt sticky, it was so cold she nearly thought the sweat would freeze on the surface of her skin. She resolved herself to going back into the Burrow for a long bath. 

She fumbled in through the kitchen door, weak and dishevelled, relieved to see it had been abandoned. It was one of the few times she had actually seen the place empty, she suspected they were giving her a wide berth after her outburst at Ron earlier that afternoon. She frowned even at the thought of his name as she pulled her fleece off her body, eager to rid herself of its sticky heat, and with it the thoughts of her ex-boyfriend. 

She hobbled to the sink and poured herself a glass of water. The second the liquid touched her lips she was ravenous, drinking it like she needed it more than her screaming lungs needed air. She didn’t even care that it dripped down past her chin and soaked her chest. She ripped it from her mouth as the pain in her lungs became too much. She set it down and held onto the kitchen countertop, staring into the sink as she waited on getting her breath back again. 

She closed her eyes and pushed her shoulders back stretching her aching spine. She rinsed out the glass quickly, placing it back with the others before she limped to the stairs. Her thighs winced in protest with each step, and when she finally got to the Weasley’s bathroom she closed the door behind her and locked it, throwing up a protective ward too just in case. 

She walked to the bateau shaped bath in the corner of the room, and turned one of the mismatched taps, closing her eyes in relief when the steam floating up from the hot water coated her face. She pushed herself away when the damp air became cumbersome to breathe, and ripped her clothes off her body, ignoring how weak the muscles in her arms felt. 

She stood naked in the bathroom as she splashed cold water around her face from the sink. She was almost scared to face her reflection. She looked like the farthest thing away from a bride, with her hair pulled into a sweaty ponytail, baby hairs escaping to form tiny little curls all around her head. Her face was somehow blue and pink at the same time, only interrupted by the freckles dotted across her nose. 

She stared at her reflection until it was swallowed by the condensation, her weather-beaten face slowly fading from view. She sighed wearily, walking slowly to the bathtub while trying to ignore the pain in her legs. She turned off the hot tap and instead pulled the cold one towards her, balancing out the temperature. She rifled through the cupboard, grabbing two bottles and setting each of them on the scruffy wooden table next to the bath. She lifted the Wideye potion, and swallowed a gulp, cringing at the disgusting flavour jabbing at her tongue but forced it down anyway. Hoping the potion would pick up her declining energy levels.

She then lifted the tiny glass vial from the table, unscrewed the lid and dropped precisely two drops into the water below her. The droplets opened out into flowers, roses and peonies blooming and spreading like wildflowers along the water's surface, before dissolving into blurs of their former selves. She watched their entire life cycle below her before she dipped her fingers into the water and glided them across, smudging the colours of the melted flowers together. 

Even after only dipping her fingers into the water they felt infinitely better, the warmth travelling up the lengths loosening the tightness between the joints. She turned off the tap and carefully dipped her foot into the heat, the potion tickling her foot as she lowered it further into the water. 

She sighed and plunged her eyes into darkness when she finally lay submerged to her neck. The potion got to work immediately, penetrating through the pain in her legs like little painless needles forcing the tense muscles loose.

She lay her head against the back of the tub and sucked up the steam into her nose, enjoying the smell of roses as she let the potion force her muscles into submission. It was as if she could physically feel the weight of the day soak away as she sunk farther and farther into the water. The pain in her arms and legs were soon replaced with a feeling of contentment as she tried to blank her mind. 

She took a deep breath into her lungs as she allowed herself to sink below the water. The world seemed to disappear down there, even her ears were dulled to the sounds the world. It was like time stood so still there that even the speed of sound was reduced to nothing. She opened her eyes and watched her hair drift around in front of her face. She almost wished she had taken some Gillyweed so she could have laid there longer; maybe she wouldn’t hear them calling her for her wedding from down here. 

Just the thought of her wedding was enough to taint the still silence in the depths of her underwater peace. She gripped the sides of the tub and reluctantly heaved herself from the water, reborn into the real world with the realisation that she didn’t actually have that long to get ready. She was really only delaying the inevitable. She grabbed her shampoo and started scrubbing it into her hair as if she could scourge her own mind of the thought.    
  


* * *

 

When she finally left the bathroom, scoured nearly down to her flesh, she heard the commotion of the Weasley clan throughout the house, fussing and arguing as they got ready for her wedding. Loud thumps and bangs followed by raised voices and finally a screech from Mrs Weasley, which only kept the silence for a few heartbeats before the patter of two competing sets of feet running upstairs broke through the quiet. 

She pulled her towel closer around her breasts and sealed herself off in her bedroom, pressing her back into the wooden door.  She smiled idly at Crookshanks sleeping on her bed, completely unaware he would have a whole new home soon; one he would have to share with obnoxiously large dogs and extravagant albino peacocks. She snorted a little as her mind conjured an image of Crookshanks standing proud with one of the Malfoy’s prized peacocks between his paws. 

With her laugh she found the courage to push herself from the bedroom door to her wardrobe. She pulled her towel from her hair and started absently brushing it while she looked through her clothes. She could barely bring herself to properly look through her clothes, she didn’t even know where to start, so she just stared at it, hoping something would jump out at her. 

She was so far off in her own thoughts she barely heard the knock at the door, ‘Hermione are you in there? It’s Ginny,’ came the voice from the other side of the wood.

Hermione reached for her wand lying on the bed and opened the door to her friend before she returned to her standoff with her wardrobe. She heard rather than saw Ginny close the door softly behind her. 

‘Have you picked one yet?’ was all she said, uncharacteristically quiet for the Weasley. 

Hermione adjusted the towel around her chest, ‘I haven’t even so much as picked out underwear yet, Ginny,’ surprising herself at how vulnerable her voice sounded, ‘How do you decide these kinds of things for men you don’t even like?’ she said coldly into the mass of clothes. 

In her peripheral she saw Ginny’s reflection in the mirror standing behind her, silently staring down at her feet in thought. Hermione’s eyes scarpered back onto her clothes, unable to stomach seeing Ginny like this. She was usually so bold and loud it just didn’t feel right when she was unsure of herself, sinking inward like that just wasn’t a natural state to see the girl in.  

She jumped when she felt Ginny’s hand gently prod at the hairbrush Hermione was twirling nervously in her hands.  She surrendered it to the girl, and shortly after she felt the spokes stroking across her scalp. Ginny had no idea how comforting the gesture really was. It reminded her of her mother painstakingly trying to tame her unruly mane, mainly making it much worse by frizzing it up, but she always tried her best anyway. Hermione would watch her smile lovingly down at her curls, as though the excessive brushing didn’t even bother her. She smiled bittersweet down into her own hands, which had now begun fiddling with her ring finger. 

‘What would you have worn to marry my brother?’  Ginny said softly from behind her. 

Hermione’s smile was short-lived. She was pinned to the spot by a stabbing in her chest as she imagined how everything should have played out for her. She should be smiling at the reflection staring back at her, with a beautiful white dress hanging from a silk hanger in the background. Her mother should be standing beaming with pride behind her, tucking one last stray curl into her elaborate hairstyle, and telling her to steady her nerves by focusing on the man she loved at the end of the aisle waiting for her.

She stared at the hands gripping her towel higher into her chest, trying to stop her vision from blurring, ‘my mother’s dress.’  

Ginny pulled Hermione’s hair into her hands, coming through the knots in the wet curls hanging from her hand, ‘Then that’s what you’ll wear.’

‘But Ginny it’s too…’

‘Leave it to me,’ Ginny said, with a tone of finality not unlike Molly’s, ‘you focus on your makeup charms and I’ll help you do your hair after.’ 

She smiled softly in thanks at Ginny’s reflection, glowing in the warmth of the compassionate smile returned to her. It wasn’t the first time Hermione was glad she had a friend like Ginny.

‘You look really beautiful,’ Ginny’s voice whispered into the darkness. She hadn’t quite mastered the nerve yet to open her eyes and face her reflection. 

‘Ten minutes, girls!’ Arthur’s distant voice called throughout the house. 

Hermione blew the tension out of her lungs, forcing the butterflies in her stomach out with it. She pulled her eyelids apart and took in her reflection before her. 

Ginny had transfigured her mother’s dress to be strapless, with the original lace made into a band around her waist, separating it from the skirt that swept out to end at her knees. It was beautiful, simple, elegant, and it fit her waist perfectly. Her hair was neatly tied up behind her head, only a few strands of curly hair allowed to break free to frame her face. 

She had to admit she looked quite like a bride, but not too much so. She was glad that her look was still a little understated, to arrive as a bride complete with a veil and a princess dress to a sham wedding was more than her pride could bear. 

Even though the wedding was being forced on her, she still wished her mother and father could see her. Unfortunately, all they would see is someone else’s daughter in a pretty dress. Hermione smiled in the mirror, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Ginny spun her from her reflection and took her into her arms, as if sensing what she was thinking she rubbed her palm along her back and simply said, ‘We are all going to be there with you.’ 

Hermione melted into the girl’s embrace, forcing the tears back into her eyes with a few measured blinks. She decided then and there that she wasn’t going to cry, and she was going to face this with courage. She wasn’t going to be a victim at her own wedding. 

* * *

 

She held steady to Harry’s arm as they walked out of the Ministry floo together. The sound of her heels echoing off the tiled walls was almost painful in the silent chasm, empty this late into the evening. They stood to the side of the chimney and waited on the rest of the Weasley’s. 

Hermione pulled her coat around her tighter, hoping to hide any hint of the white underneath it. 

‘Hermione?’ she turned her head to see Harry avoiding her eyes, fixing them on something in the distance, ‘You, ah... look really beautiful.’ 

She smiled warmly at him as he nervously returned her smile, ‘Thanks, Harry.’ 

She noticed his arm was twitching, he must have been fidgeting with his shirt underneath his dress robes, desperately trying to say something else. She just waited and let him get there in his own time. 

‘If they,’ he seemingly gave up on what he was going to say as he turned his head away from her, ‘If they..,’ he tried again, turning his head back towards her, ‘ _ do _ anything...bad to you. You’ll tell me right? Or Ginny, or…’ 

‘I will,’ she nodded, clutching his arm tighter in hers. He seemed to release a tightness in his chest and he coughed awkwardly. 

The floo roared to life and Mr and Mrs Weasley stepped out, ‘Arthur, I told you we should have sent George and Ginny first, what if they get the wrong one...’ 

‘They’ve been to the Ministry before, dear. They’ll be absolutely fine,’ Arthur said, trying to comfort his worrying wife. 

Her fears were settled before she could reply as George and Ginny erupted from the floo. 

‘You stood on my foot!’ George yelped.

‘Well you shouldn’t have put your fat foot under my shoe then should you!’ Ginny was already walking before the flames had even died down at her feet. 

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and shook their heads, laughing. Ginny and George were already fighting and they’d barely even gotten through the floo. 

‘Children, children!’ Mrs Weasley chastised as she took Ginny by the arm, encouraging her away from her brother. 

‘We aren’t children anymore, mother,’ George groaned, rolling his eyes at his mother’s back. 

Molly’s head whipped back round at him, ‘Then stop acting like it, George Weasley!’ 

George merely shoved his hands into his pockets, as he rolled his eyes. His father slapped his hand onto his shoulder and smiled at him in male solidarity as they trailed along behind the matriarch. 

Harry and Hermione fell in line behind them, still smiling at the Weasleys. Somehow the family’s childish antics always made her feel a little lighter. It almost didn’t feel like she was walking towards the beginning of a new life she had never asked for. 

 

* * *

 

She wasn’t sure she could do this. She stood outside the door into her wedding, trying to focus on the grain in the wood just to stop her thinking about it.  _ Her wedding _ . Inside her stomach was flipping in on itself, and she felt like she could vomit. She held a death grip on Harry’s arm that no doubt hurt, but he didn’t say anything. 

Everyone else was already inside, including the Malfoy’s. She understood now why they had rehearsals of these things, with three of them at the altar where was she even supposed to stand, in the middle of them? Beside them? To their left or right? Her mind raced with questions, each one punctuated with the beating of her rapid heart in her chest. 

She knew she was rambling inside her head, and so did Harry because he snuck his hand in between their arms and squeezed her hand in his. The music started and she hitched her breath, squeezing Harry’s hand tight in her grip out of pure unadulterated terror.

‘You know something?’ Harry whispered beside her. 

She swallowed and tried to find her voice, ‘What?’ 

‘You’re Hermione bloody Granger,’ she smiled at the white door in front of her, letting a small laugh leave her nostrils.  

 ‘Don’t let them see any weakness.’ 

She puffed up her chest, and pulled her feet together, straightening up with the clack of her heels bashing up against one another, ‘The Malfoys?’ 

The double doors jutted in front of them and she shook her head, wiping any trace of her insecurity from her face. She tilted her chin into the air, if she was going to do this she was going to handle it with grace and dignity. 

‘Any of them,’ he whispered, as they took their first steps into the room. Something in his tone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she held her poise. The white doors opened in front of her, and it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water around her.

She was suddenly thrust into the spotlight, every pair of eyes in the room on her. The Weasley clan in the front row, some of Draco’s close friends she recognised from Hogwarts, the Ministry officials guarding the final empty rows of the room, and the people she had never seen before in her life. All staring at her. 

She couldn’t face their eyes, so she stared straight ahead as she walked down the aisle on Harry’s arm. Unfortunately, this put her directly in the line of sight with the men awaiting her at the bottom of the aisle, and suddenly everything felt even more surreal than she could have imagined. She swallowed in her throat as she took them in. They stood side by side, leaving space for her in between them. And each one of them was spectacular in their own right. 

She caught a brief glimpse of the complete shock on Draco’s face as he took her in, his eyes travelling from her ankles and slowly caressing up her body. She smiled in a smug sense of satisfaction at his appraisal. He looked at her like he might genuinely find her attractive. As soon as that thought occurred to her she shoved it back down to the dark depths of whatever part of her mind it came from. Even just so she could ignore the spike in her heartbeat at the thought. 

As soon as he felt her eyes on him, he shuffled his feet, turning his face to stone. His handsome features were now completely unreadable, and his stance portrayed nothing but formality and deep-set confidence. He wore a Muggle style suit, which fit much tighter than his usual dress robes. It clung perfectly to his narrow hips, expanding to fit his wider shoulders. His fiercely white hair standing out against the dark grey of his suit. If she had never met him before she would have been fascinated by him. If she could have admitted it to herself, she would have known that she ripped her eyes from him in fear of her low key attraction building towards the man. But she told herself it was because she felt uncomfortable staring at him too long. 

Her eyes seemed to zone in straight on Mr Malfoy, who stood staring unflinchingly at her, even when she looked directly back at him. He seemed entirely unphased, standing as proud and arrogant as ever. He had pulled his long hair back into a low ponytail at the back of his head. His dress robes were black as usual, and he still looked like he belonged in the 1800s but then again, most of the wizarding world did.

She refused to give in to him, and forced determination into her eyes, locking him just as fiercely with her focus. He raised an eyebrow at the challenge, a small hint of a smile tracing his lips. Hermione had to hold back the urge to swallow or avert her gaze. It didn’t help that he was undeniably handsome even being twice her age. Every point of his face was sharp and masculine, and there was something unshakeable in his energy. But it was his eyes that really fixed her, there was something about holding all of this man’s attention, something in the upturn of his lips that made her feel laid bare as she approached the altar. 

It felt like there was no oxygen in the room when she finally stood in front of them. Harry pulled her towards him for a hug, and as she settled into his arms she hoped that particular moment would last forever. If time could stop precisely where it was she wouldn’t have to go through with this. But he pulled back and lifted both of her hands, setting one in Draco’s open palm to her right, and Lucius’s on her left, before turning to sit beside Ginny in the front row. 

Hermione was left standing alone between the two men, She hated to admit it, but their physical contact seemed to ignite some sort of nervous excitement in her, like electricity was being passed through their palms. She desperately tried to stop herself from shaking, but she knew they felt it. 

It was at that point that a very old wizard shuffled towards them, his legs barely carrying him forward. His entire body looked like it was strained under the weight of gravity, his back crouched in a perfect arch, and the wrinkles in his face slowly melting down towards the floor. He pushed his wrinkled lips together as he swallowed in that dramatic gesture that only truly old people could master. 

He cleared his throat, ‘We are gathered here today to witness the union of three souls,’ he croaked in an accent so old that he might possibly be the last person on Earth to speak it, ‘If there are any objections I suggest you speak now.’ 

Oh, she had many objections, many many objections. But what use was there, if she spoke up she’d have her wand snapped and be whisked off the Azkaban. The sound of a cough coming from the back rows of the room echoed through the silent air, and everyone in the room sat silent, afraid of the same fate. 

‘Now then,’ the old man huffed after the silence had settled, pulling his wand from his robes, ‘Each of you may please present a hand, palm up, on top of mine.’ His wrinkled hand landed directly in front of Hermione and she struggled to breathe looking at it, it was as if someone had put skin on a skeleton. 

She felt the loss of heat in her left hand, and she watched Mr Malfoy’s hand approach the old man’s first. He hovered his hand above where the old man had placed his. Hermione straightened her spine, this was it, this was the binding. She was determined to be strong, so she placed her hand directly on top of his, strangely comforted by the sight of his large hand under hers, protecting it from the deathly hand below it.  

She marvelled again at how tiny her hand seemed against his, and when Draco’s hand landed softly on top of hers, and she could barely even see her own now. She had never imagined in her life that her hand would be sandwiched between theirs. It just seemed like any minute she would jolt out of the water in the Weasley’s bathtub, silently screaming for air. 

The old wizard slowly removed his hand from below theirs and deposited his wand in it before waving it over the table beside him. On the table sat three silvery-white ribbons lying neatly parallel to one another. At the motion of his wand, they sprung to life, dancing around each other as they floated higher into the air. 

‘Do you agree to be bound to each other in matrimony? To be ever faithful and ever loyal to one another, binding yourselves together as a family now and forever?’ the old man tried to speak more clearly and louder, but his voice was too weak in his age to have any kind of effect. 

‘I do,’ they said together. 

‘Then with these three ribbons I shall bind you,’ the old man pointed his wand from the ribbons to their hands, and a single silver ribbon snaked itself around their hands, forcing them tighter together, ‘I bind you under the oath of fidelity.’  Hermione stared at the hands melded together, feeling completely trapped, even if she were to try and run now, the magic would still be binding her to the Malfoys, there was nothing she could do.

‘I bind you under the oath of loyalty,’ he croaked, as another ribbon wound itself around their hands. 

‘And I now bind you under the oath of family,’ the final ribbon slithered around their hands, pulling them almost uncomfortably tight together. 

‘I now pronounce you bound.’

The ribbons loosened their grip on their hands, braiding around each other instead. Hermione watched as the silk of the ribbon melted in front of her. Each of them pulled their hands back, and the ribbon separated into three pieces of metal, one on each of their hands.

The metal ribbons shrunk on her hand, entwining themselves around her wedding finger and sealing themselves into a thin dainty braid. It was remarkably feminine on her finger, and she actually kind of liked it. 

When she looked at Draco’s and Lucius’ hands they wore similar braided rings, although each one was different. Draco’s was a thick metal band, plain except for the tiny rope set into the middle. Lucius’ was much more elaborate, in between two smaller braids in the middle of the ring sat an ornate baroque style engraving.  

They were interrupted by the old wizard, ‘You may kiss your bride.’

 Hermione had almost forgotten he was there. She felt like time had stopped while she waited for one of them to do something. Did she really have to kiss them? Here in front of everyone? She felt Mr Malfoy move at her side and she sucked in a breath, holding it hostage in her lungs. His hand connected with the small of her back as he leaned down closer to her, the gesture only made more intimate by the warmth of his fingertips through the material of her gown. She felt his breath on her cheek and she turned her head towards him. He was so close she closed her eyes, afraid to make eye contact with him. Her heart pounded in her chest, while she waited to feel the pressure on her lips.

His lips connected with her cheek just beside her mouth, and she instantly knew what he was doing, he was making it look like he had kissed her to the rest of the room, but he had avoided it entirely himself. He slipped his hand from her back and straightened back up to his full height. Their eyes connected as he moved and something passed between their eyes for a millisecond, but before she could interpret it he schooled his face back to stone, pulling his eyes away to stare back in front of him. She should have been thankful to him, but all she could think about was she really that bad he wouldn’t kiss her even if it was forced? 

She was just about to frown when she felt Draco’s hand tentatively brush against her spine. The feeling of his fingertips against her skin was enough to send shivers down her back, and she tried to tell herself that it was just because the sensation was foreign coming from him. 

She turned her head to face him and saw the hesitancy in his eyes. He looked at her like he was asking permission. She nodded slightly and the hand at her back grew bold as it pulled her closer to him. She craned her neck up to his height, and it was as if no one was watching them when he tilted his head to the side as he approached her. Her eyes darted between his lips and his eyes as it became more obvious he was not going to use the same tact as his father. 

She closed her eyes as his lips brushed softly against hers. She wished the kiss would have been terrible, but it wasn’t. His lips were plump and warm as he held her lower lip between them. It was as if all sensation and consciousness were whittled down into her lips and the space on her back where his hand rested. She subconsciously let out the tension in her back, sinking closer to him. It was when she felt their hips touch that her eyes opened wide in horror. She pulled back suddenly, embarrassed that she had forgotten who exactly it was she was kissing. 

She watched his face get farther away, his own eyes opened and he looked taken aback. She whipped her head back around to face the old wizard, blushing uncontrollably. She nervously glanced her eyes towards him, checking her peripheral, and he was smirking. He knew exactly what had happened to her. Maybe he had felt it too? She shoved that thought down as the old wizard guided her out of the room, she didn’t even listen to what he was saying. Something about signing contracts, all she cared about was hiding her pink face from everyone’s eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND HERE WE HAVE THE WEDDING!! This is the longest chapter we've had so far I believe, and the next one will be near enough just as long- so it's a super treat!! I'm also uploading the next chapter right now <3 
> 
>  
> 
> Please please leave me your thoughts, you know I love them!! 
> 
> Comfort   
> xxx


	18. Consummation

‘This way, Mistress!’ Mipsy singsonged as she skipped down the long hall in front of her. 

Hermione absently followed the little elf through the maze of a house. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to live here, it seemed completely bizarre. She watched as priceless paintings and statues passed her by, and she couldn’t help but wonder if some of them were worth more than her flat. 

‘Here we goes, Mistress,’ the elf girl gave out one last skip, using it to turn on the spot playfully. 

Hermione wanted to cringe at being called ‘mistress’ but instead, she praised the little elf,  ‘Oh thank you, Mipsy. Will you show me inside?’ She definitely didn’t want to have that conversation tonight. 

Mipsy beamed at her before she snapped her tiny little fingers. The door swung open, and Hermione tentatively stepped into her new room. In the middle of the back wall sat a huge four-poster bed, decorated in heavy purple fabric. She walked further into the room and noticed she had her own fireplace, white marble complete with two purple velvet armchairs perfectly angled towards the fire. She smiled, content she had just found Crookshanks’ favourite new place to sit. She made her way through the room, brushing her hands against the velvet curtains around her bed. 

‘Mipsy cleaned Mistress’s room, did Mipsy do good?’ Mipsy squeaked from her bedroom door. 

‘Yes, Mispy, it’s perfect thank you,’ she said, reading the label off of a bottle of champagne sitting next to the armchairs in the middle of the room. The elf shook with delight before she left the room, pattering her little feet confidently as she closed the door behind her. 

It was the first time she had been alone since this morning. She let out the breath gathered deep in her lungs and kicked off her heels, relieved to feel her feet lying normally on the floor. She looked around the room and frowned, why did everything in the wizarding world have to be so dark? Mahogany just never went out of style here, she thought as she spun around one of the huge bedposts. 

At least it was wood, she chuckled to herself, she half expected her bed to be made from solid gold. She noticed a mysterious looking door on the left side of her bedroom, and her curiosity got the better of her. She padded over to it in her almost bare feet and turned the knob on the door. 

Inside, it was a huge empty wardrobe, rails upon rails and drawers upon drawers coated the walls. She glanced up a spiral staircase at the side of the room and wondered if she climbed high enough would she be in one of the spires. She walked a few steps in front of her and looked inside a huge glass display case sitting in the middle of the room, inside was lined entirely with shiny black silk, indented to make room for jewellery. 

She was wondering how on earth anyone could own so much jewellery when she noticed that one garment had been hung up for her in the wardrobe. She reached her hand out to touch it and she marvelled at the feeling of it in her fingers. It was a black dressing gown that somehow felt like fluffy silk in her hands. She took it off the hanger and rubbed it against her face, delighting at the feeling of the soft fur against her cheek. When she pulled it away to look at it she saw it had been embroidered with initials, it took her too long to realise who they belonged to. She stared down at the beautifully scripted HJM, glittering silver in the light of her dressing room. 

Hermione Jean Malfoy. 

She shivered at the thought and threw the dressing gown around her shoulders. She noticed another door leading off from her wardrobe. When she opened it she stood in an elaborately decorated bathroom. She put her hands to the tiles on the wall, they seemed to be made from marble, and they covered all of the walls and floor in the room. The room was all white except for hints of gold in the ornate swirling and patterns around the objects. 

On her way past, she touched the side of the large slipper bath that sat in the middle of the room. It was white, complete with gold telephone style water taps and feet. She peeked over the side and noted it was deep. She smiled, her peaceful little underwater haven would exist here too.

She glanced up and took in the rest of the room. It really was quite extravagant. The shower was big enough to be called a wet room. It was coated in marble, and she even wondered if the showerhead was made from actual gold. The cabinet containing the sink was rococo style with each flower-like design done in gold accent. Her bathroom window was floor-length, draped with curtains either side. She imagined she wouldn’t need them much, she could always just cast a privacy charm. It seemed like that would be easier than having to pull the heavy fabric across the window blocking the light. 

She was trying to see out of the window when Mipsy blinked into existence beside her. Hermione pulled her dressing gown closer into herself and yelped at the sight of the girl. 

Mipsy recoiled and scattered away to hide behind the curtain. 

‘Oh Mipsy,’ she said, still panting to keep up with her racing heart, ‘You just surprised me that’s all,’ she bent down to the little elf’s height, and held out her hand, ‘C’mon out now you don’t need to be frightened.’ 

‘Mipsy is sorry, Misses, Mipsy didn’t mean to scare the mistress,’ she said, grabbing on to Hermione’s hand and walking out from behind the curtain, wiping her eyes, ‘Mipsy came to tell Mistress Mr Malfoy is coming.’ 

‘Thank you, Mipsy. Next time can you knock on my door first so I know it’s you?’ 

Mipsy only nodded as Hermione rubbed a tear from the baby elf’s cheek, ‘run along now, Mipsy.’ 

She gave one last small smile and was gone with a blink of her fluttery eyelashes. 

Hermione stood up tall and braced herself. She walked out back into her dressing room, and pulled the dressing gown off her shoulders, immediately missing the soft texture against her arms. She set the dressing gown on the display case and reached behind her to pull the zipper of her dress down her back. She stepped out of it, carefully avoiding her reflection in the mirror in front of her. She hung it up on one of the rails, taking one last minute to run her finger across the lace belt, one of the only features of her mother’s dress that remained. 

She took a deep breath and padded back across to her mirror, taking a minute to look at herself. She was all in white, but the suspenders and stockings Ginny had talked her into gave her look a sexy edge. At the time she had been difficult to convince, thinking it looked like she wanted them to want her, but now the thought of standing completely naked in front of Lucius’ soul penetrating eyes was a difficult one. She was glad to have any shielding she could have against him. 

She didn’t understand what had passed between them when he pulled back from her kiss. She didn’t understand her own reaction if she was honest. In that moment she was fully prepared for him to kiss her. She should have been repulsed, he was twice her age and an ex-death eater. But instead she’d stood like a fool waiting on him to kiss her, and it made her feel even more conflicted about tonight. She had literally no choice in the matter, when she signed that contract earlier this evening she had signed off her right to choose, at least for tonight or the binding wouldn’t be valid. But if he couldn’t even kiss her how were they supposed to...

KNOCK KNOCK 

She leapt towards her dressing gown and pulled it around her body. She wasn’t even a little bit prepared to answer the door to him in her underwear. She tightened the belt around her waist as tightly as it would go as she walked back into the bedroom. 

‘Come in,’ she said, as she stood in front of her bed. Hermione fiddled with the belt of her dressing gown, unsure of what to do with her hands, should she be sitting? She shoved her anxiety aside when Lucius entered the room, she didn’t need the indignity of looking vulnerable in front of a man like him, and honestly, she just wanted it to be over. She decided to be bold and started loosening her dressing gown as he closed the door shut securely behind him. 

‘Miss Granger,’ was all he got to say before he stopped in his tracks, eyes immediately darting to the exposed skin of her chest. His focused eyes halted her a little in her tracks, and she noticed his gaze lingered a little too long before he held his hand out.

 ‘There’s no need for that my dear,’ he finally pulled his eyes away as he walked into the room away from her, ‘please have a seat.’ She grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it tightly across her neck, hiding the blush she could feel rising from her chest. She knew she was being childish for feeling slighted that he had bossed her about in her own bedroom, he owned the entire place after all, but she still stomped her feet a little on the way to the chairs in front of the fireplace. 

She sat in one of the velvet chairs, lifting her legs up into her chest and pulling her dressing gown over them, trying to hide as much of her body as she could. She was relieved it wasn’t happening right away but she was equally disappointed that she couldn’t just get it over with.  

Mr Malfoy shrugged his outer dress robes from his shoulders, leaving him standing in just his waistcoat, shirt and trousers. She stared at his back as he opened the champagne bottle, it was the most dressed down she had ever seen him, he had even rolled his sleeves back to his elbows, revealing strong-looking forearms and thick wrists. She couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over his shoulders into the slope of his lower back. She always thought he would be thin beneath his huge robes, but he actually looked quite strong. His figure was remarkably masculine for a man who had never done any physical labour in his life. 

He began to turn back to her, and she ripped her eyes away, not wanting him to see her noticing him. She avoided looking at him as he set a champagne flute on the table next to her seat and sat in the armchair opposite her. He stared at her in silence as he brought the glass to his lips taking a sip. Her eyes were drawn to the sight of his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick the excess off from his lips. She swallowed and looked to her hands in her lap, which were fiddling with the new ring on her finger absently. She was desperately trying to ignore the little tremble between her legs at the anticipation of the night, and the sight of his tongue wasn’t helping. It wasn’t the first time her body reacted independently from her mind. 

‘I haven’t poisoned it you know,’ he said, voice sounding as aristocratic and pretentious as ever despite the hint of humour. 

She blinked slowly, and reached for the glass by the table, ‘I should hope so. It wouldn’t look good on you for your new bride to die on her wedding night,’ she raised the glass to him in a mock toast, sipping from the elegant glass. It was deliciously sweet and glided down her throat with little effort. 

He raised his eyebrows at her, lips tilted in a sardonic seeming smile, ‘Precisely,’ he drawled, taking another sip of his own. He snapped his fingers and the fire bloomed to life between them. She stared at the flames and wondered how the magic behind it worked that he didn’t need his wand to conjure the fire. 

‘Miss Granger,’ he shifted in his seat, folding one of his legs across the other, letting his champagne glass hang from the hand at his knee, ‘I must be frank with you, there will be no consummation of this marriage between you and I.’

Her head jolted from the fire towards the man in front of her. He just looked at her with the same impossible stare he always did. She pressed her glass against her lip in thought, ‘What about the binding magic?’ she said against the glass, noticing how his eyes drifted to her lips when she spoke. 

‘The wizard who performed the ceremony is a...’ he paused bringing his glass to his own lips, ‘...personal friend,’ he took another sip from his glass, ‘I have no intention of being a husband to you, Miss Granger,’ Hermione stared into the open flames of the fire between them, thinking back to the ceremony and what the wizard possibly could have done to alter it, ‘but I have  _ every _ intention of being your father-in-law.’ 

She frowned into the fire, mind racing. The old wizard had performed the ceremony  _ exactly  _ as she had read it described, what possibly could have thrown off the magic? And the Ministry was sitting in the very same room, how could he possibly have got away with altering it? She started to wonder if the marriage was even legal. 

‘The ceremony was real, and by law, we are in fact married,’ he said as if he had read her mind, ‘but your consummation with Draco this evening should be close enough of blood relation to fool the magic my friend cast.’ 

‘Why couldn’t you have told me this earlier?’ she said, watching him through the corners of her eyes. 

‘Why I had to make sure you wouldn’t drag me straight to the Ministry!’ he lifted one of his eyebrows and rolled the champagne glass in his hand, challenging her with his eyes to tell him he was wrong. He took a sharp inhale of air into his lungs, staring at his glass as he brought it to his lips, ‘And now, I have your oath of loyalty after all,’ he somehow made the simple act of sipping his drink seem treacherous, and she was loathe to admit it, but there was something vaguely sexual in his smile. 

She shoved the thought away and chose to narrow her eyes at him instead, ‘Do I even have yours or did you get your ‘friend’ to manipulate that too?’ she spat. 

 ‘Now, now Miss Granger,’ he held his hand up as if halting her, ‘The only thing he altered was the Ministry’s ability to track the consummation. After tonight, the magic will perceive that you have consummated with both myself and my son. Apart from that, it is like any normal marriage.’ 

‘Except you’re technically my husband but actually my father-in-law?’ 

‘Unfortunately, yes. That was the best deal that could be presented.’ 

Hermione’s eyes opened wide as she choked the glass’s neck in her hand, ‘deal?’ she pushed through her teeth, feeling heat travelling through the capillaries under her skin, building up red in her cheeks. She shot up from her seat in her fury, ‘You mean you bartered for me like some kind of  _ chattel _ !’ 

‘Now, now, Miss Granger,’ Mr Malfoy responded, gracefully unfolding his legs and rising to stand in front of her. He was a good bit taller than her, but she stood her ground, ‘This was the best option for all of us,’ he stalked towards her, forcing her chin higher into the air the closer he got, ‘What they had in mind was much less…’ he tilted his head slightly, looking down at her through his almost closed eyes, ‘ _ savoury _ .’ 

‘What could be much worse for me than this?’ she closed the gap between them, shoving her nose close into his face, ‘A broodmare for prejudiced bigots that I fought a war against!’ 

He sucked the air hard up into his nose, seeming to gain about a foot in height as his face turned to an outright snarl, ‘We don’t hold those views any more, Miss Granger,’ he growled low into her face. 

She wasn’t sure how long they stood neck and neck, staring into each other’s faces angrily. They stood so close to each other their chests nearly touched when they panted their frustration at one another. She wasn’t a child anymore, and she wouldn’t shrink away from him. The fire beside them suddenly roared, searing heat slapping across her cheek. The raging magic energy radiating off them interfering with the magic of the fire. 

It was just enough to break the tension between them, ‘I shan’t linger any longer,’ he broke the silence, schooling his face back to stone, ‘You have about one hour to complete the ceremony.’  

He retrieved his cloak, leaving her standing staring into where he had been. She watched him neatly hang it over his arm from the sides of her eyes. He stopped just before he left through the door, ‘And I trust you like your quarters?’ he didn’t give her enough time to answer before he snapped, ‘You can change it to any of the others if you’d like.’ 

He bowed his head to her as he exited the door, but there was something sinister in his eyes that made her swallow the second he left. 

She stared into where he had stood in front of her, she had really touched a nerve bringing up his past. But she couldn’t care less. He had thought it was ok to barter with her life like it was his to negotiate with in the first place. She wondered what could possibly have been such a bad fate that marriage to the Malfoys could be the lesser evil. 

Now she was expected to just sit here and wait, like some bint in a historical romance afraid of her first time with her arranged husband. She pulled her dressing gown closer around her body, If they wanted a Victorian marriage, then they’ll get a Victorian wife. 

* * *

 

It was one of the few times she had ever seen him look nervous when he entered her bedchamber, but it didn’t soften the hard lump that had formed where her heart should have been. 

Draco closed the door behind him and opened his mouth to speak. 

‘Don’t say anything,’ she snapped, holding her hand out to stop him, ‘Let’s just get this over with.’ 

She watched something in him shift, and suddenly he looked more like his schoolboy self, his lip curled up in distaste at her. He strode unflinchingly into the room, slipping his suit jacket off of his shoulders, and laying it over the armchair his father had sat on not long before. As soon as the jacket left his hands, he opened his tie and started working on the buttons of his shirt, each one lost revealing more and more of his creamy skin. Hermione’s heart started to race as she watched more and more of him being revealed. Her eyes followed his hands through each button he released.  When his entire chest was exposed her breath hitched. The scar along his chest gave it a certain ruggedness you’d never expect from him, and she wondered what it would feel like under her hands.  

He scrunched his shirt into one of his hands, before holding out both of his arms in a challenge, ‘Well, C’mon then Granger. If you’re so keen to just  _ get it over with _ ,’ he spat, voice dripping with bitterness. 

She forced every bit of hate she had ever felt for him into her eyes and dropped her dressing gown behind her. He didn’t bother hiding his assessment of her body, taking his time roaming his eyes over every part of her. He must have enjoyed what he saw, because his chest rose and fell harder despite the animosity in his eyes. She felt strangely powerful under his gaze, and she couldn’t deny that it sent electricity between her legs as she watched him loosen his belt while he further undressed her with his eyes. 

She cursed her body for reacting to him, especially as his suit trousers dropped from his hips, revealing the beginning of his erection in his tight boxers. Hermione’s lips involuntarily drifted apart as he started to walk towards her, and she felt herself losing the silent battle. In a move of desperation, she unclipped her bra behind her back, letting it fall to the floor in front of her. She smirked sinfully when he faltered, the growing bulge in his underwear twitching at the sight of her breasts. 

Her smile didn’t last long. Something turned predatory in his eyes, and he approached her all the faster. She took a few steps back until her knees connected with the bed behind her, but he kept coming. So she climbed up onto the bed. He instantly followed her, crawling up her body while she moved farther up the bed away from him. Her body screamed at her to let him catch her, but her mind berated it for wanting him.  

Eventually, he caught her, his head level with hers as he hovered above her. She stared up at him in complete shock, realising too late that they were close enough for their chests to touch if she hitched her breath. Her nipples connected with his skin and the simple touch was enough to send a shot of arousal down her spine. Evidently he felt the same, because something ticked in his tight jaw. 

She knew she shouldn’t be feeling this way about him, he was Draco Malfoy, her childhood bully. He called her a Mudblood and plotted with his father to force her to marry him. That was a sobering thought. He dropped his head to kiss her, and she placed her hand on his chest, ‘No kissing,’ she said, afraid if she let him she would forget herself again. 

His face formed into a scowl directed at her, ‘As you wish,’ he pushed himself away from her, leaning back on his thighs. Somehow she felt even more open and exposed without his body above her. She refused to look at him, she merely stared at the wooden ceiling above her bed, searching for the grain in the wood for the second time today as she heard him moving around on the bed, supposedly taking his underwear off. She found herself curious about what he looked like, but she was determined not to take her eyes off the wood of her bed. 

She felt his hands at the sides of her thong, pausing to give her time to tell him to stop. The seconds ticked by like hours, arousal tickling along her lips in anticipation. She tried to scold her body into submission, but when he tugged on each side, pulling it down her thighs and over her feet, she bit her lip as the exposed air sent chills along the sensitive skin. She closed her eyes shut tight, completely unable to face him now that she was fully exposed. She was petrified that he would look at her and somehow know how aroused she was. 

The bed shifted underneath her as he leaned to the right. She heard the drawer open and close before the bed stilled beneath her again. The sound of a bottle opening penetrated her ears, and she swallowed, wondering what he was doing. When she felt his finger softly graze her folds she jolted stiff as he spread something cold against her. At least it wasn’t completely obvious to him that she was wet if he was lubing her up. 

Another shift on the bed and something much thicker than his finger rubbed up and down her lips. Her eyes shot open, and all she saw was his hand at the base of his cock, moving it up and down her, spreading the lube over his head. He was so focused on his task he didn’t see her watch him pump his cock, spreading the lube around himself. She couldn’t make out what he looked like, but judging by how much his hand had to move, he had to have been well endowed. 

She flung her eyes closed again as he moved on the bed, she didn’t want to be caught watching him. The anticipation of his touch was torture, but when he finally rubbed his cock against her clit she dug her toes into the bed. Silently cursing her body for responding to him, and hoping he hadn’t noticed. He leaned forward on the bed, hovering above her on his elbows, and moved his head to the side of her face. She was relieved she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye at least. 

Her eyes flew open again when she felt him press himself firmly against her opening. She allowed herself a deep breath as he slowly increased the pressure until he was pressing inside of her. It felt unnatural not to put her arms around his back, but she kept them stuck to the bed, clinging to the sheets the more he entered her. 

He finally settled into her, his hips landing solidly on top of hers. She couldn’t help but open her mouth at the ceiling, he was in very deep. He gave her a moment to adjust before he started pulling back out again torturously slowly. He set a slow pace, easing her into it. She stared up and tried not to breathe too heavily, each time he thrust in and out of her made it more and more difficult to stay silent. 

He started to slowly speed up his thrusts, and it became even harder to contain her breathing, with each thrust his cock was rippling pleasure through her. She was torn inside, she knew it was wrong to like it, but when he was filling her so nicely it was impossible not to. If she was honest, her thoughts of how wrong it was only pushed her further into her depravity. 

He shifted his body, leaning more into his left elbow, and all hell broke loose. His cock was hitting up against a new spot inside of her, she had never felt it like this before. She pulled her lips into her mouth, trapping them between her teeth to stop herself from moaning, while her eyebrows reached for the other. With each breath, a tiny little squeak infiltrated her breathing Luckily Draco didn’t seem to hear, because he didn’t react at all. 

The pleasure was building inside of her, tears started to build in her eyes at the pressure of holding in her moans. With each thrust, she thought she was going to lose the battle, and each one so far had been safely. Until one slightly harder thrust connected directly with the spot, and her lips flew open, releasing the most desperate plea of a moan into the silence. 

Draco stilled above her, unmoving while she panted below him, finally gasping for the air she had denied herself. It was then she realised at some point her hands had landed on his back pulling him closer to her by his lower back. She released the pressure as she started to feel ashamed of herself, the beginning of a blush growing on her cheeks. 

Just as she was about to pull her hands from him, he jerked his hips violently, slamming his cock hard against the sensitive spot inside of her. She cried and dug her nails into his back as he set a cruel pace, repeatedly hitting the spot with force. Her pleasure was only heightened by the knowledge that he was now actively trying to make her come. She gave in, and thrust her hips up to meet his, desperately chasing her release. She knew how wrong it was but his pants and groans in her ear were enough to tell her she wasn’t on her own in her wantonness. 

‘I’m going to come!’ she cried out just before the pleasure exploded in her abdomen. She moaned openly and shamelessly as she was swallowed by her own orgasm. It was apparently too much for him too, because he shoved his cock deep inside her as he groaned out his own pleasure. She could feel the warmth of his cum coating her inside, and it only pushed her orgasm further. 

Their cries soon died down to pants as they lay still against each other. He lay above her, his breath tickling against her neck. She hadn’t worked up the energy to move her hands off of his back. As her orgasm faded it started to dawn on her what had just happened. Draco Malfoy had forced her through an orgasm, and she was lying with his cum between her thighs.

Draco rolled off of her, his cock slipping out of her as he landed flat on his back next to her. He held up his hand and clicked his fingers, the fire and the candles in the room extinguished themselves, leaving them in the darkness.  She had to admit she was glad she didn’t know if she had the strength to face him after that, her strength, in general, was fading away from her as her body seemed to sink further into the mattress, sleep overtaking even the basic need of covering her naked body. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL I'M DYING TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!   
> I bet you weren't expecting this so soon... how will they handle what happened in the morning?? 
> 
> More answers to some of the questions we are all dying to know should be in the next chapter. :D <3 
> 
>  
> 
> Love,  
> Comfort 
> 
> xxx


End file.
